Making Shade
by WeeIrishLass
Summary: Landon Weasley&James Potter are in their first year at Hogwarts, and ready to follow in their parents' footsteps. When Hogwarts is threatened by Death Eaters, how far will they go to live up to their names? Pure Landon and Emily fic.
1. Preface

Sometimes, I wonder about how exactly I managed to grow up in the house that I did, with the parents that I had, and the relatives that I did. To say that I grew up in the limelight would be the understatement of the century. When your dad's a world-famous doctor of animal studies (who discovered another twenty uses for dragon blood), your mum's the Magistrix (or Mistress of Magic, whichever you prefer) and used to be a world-famous auror, your uncle is just plain world-famous for what seemed like thousands of things, and your other uncles created "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" and are making billions off of fake wands, it is hard not to grow up in the spotlight. Rather than spotlight, often my sister and I were stuck in the prominent shadow of our relatives. In a hundred years, who would remember Landon and Emily Weasley, and Evie, James and Rachel Potter? Probably no one. But everyone would remember Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger-Weasley and Harry Potter.  
  
My Grandmum Weasley was often sensitive of this, and told the five of us something that I will never forget. She sat us down, once, while our parents were at one of those "famous people parties" that we weren't allowed to go to. She and Granddad let us spend the night, which we loved to do.  
  
Well, anyway, she said to us, "Now, I know that growing up is hard for children to do; especially hard for you, dears. Now, I'm going to tell you something that I told Uncle Ron a long time ago. Instead of living in your parent's shadow, you need to want to make yourself better. You need to step out of their shadow and make some shade of your own. Now, don't you ever use your parent's fame as a defense mechanism. You are not your parents; you are you."  
  
People ask Emily and me if our parents put too much pressure on us in our childhood years. I can honestly tell them that, no, they did not. Mum and Dad never asked anything of us, except that we do our best. Looking back on it, I saw that I was the one who put the pressure on myself to be the best. After all, I always did take after Mum.  
  
Emily, on the other hand, could have been Dad reincarnate. However, that wouldn't really have been possible because both of them are still alive, and there couldn't have been two Ron Weasleys, even if one of them was reincarnated (I told you that I took after Mum). To say that Emily was a tomboy would be a severe insult to her. She was much, much more than a tomboy. One time, she got sent to the Headmaster's office for fighting- someone had called her the G-word. That's right, G as in "girl".  
  
I honestly don't know how I survived my Hogwarts years. I wouldn't have, without my two best friends. James Potter, Charlotte Bronte (NOT the writer) and I were the best of friends. All of the teachers who knew out parents said that we were the spitting image of the three of them. Charlotte would get kind of confused about that, considering that she was in no way related to our parents at all, but James and I understood. We understood each other like our fathers do. Sometimes I can swear that we have mental telepathy or something, but then I remember that Divination is a load of dragon dung. Charlotte, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. She and James hit it off all right, but my feelings were slightly…different. Mum would have had a coronary if she had heard me voice my opinions about poor Char.  
  
If there was one thing that my parents taught me, it was to never judge people by first impressions. I cannot tell you how many times I had heard the story about how they hated each other, and then they were best friends, and then BAM!, one day, they were getting married. They would always say that a person's appearance, financial status, and popularity quotient did not matter one bit. I promptly ignored this lesson when introduced to Charlotte, but don't all children do that at one point in time?  
  
I really hated it when people expected me to behave all the time. Of course, I loved to learn and study (something about learning and gaining knowledge just invigorates me), and I really don't enjoy breaking rules because that ends up in getting in trouble, but there were times when I just wanted to behave like a normal wizard boy and randomly run into the Forbidden Forest with James and Charlotte in search of adventure, like Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry did. People always expected the son of Hermione Granger to be well behaved (not all of those people know half of the stuff that Mum did in school, though), forgetting that I did have Weasley genes in me.  
  
Hogwarts was probably one of my favorite places on earth. I had been there many times with Mum (back when she taught Defense Against the Dark Arts), and knew my way around like the back of my hand. I could hardly wait to start my first year, and like any normal child growing up in the wizarding world, I was also completely terrified. 


	2. Chapter One

Author's Note: Hello. The preface of this story was a little cloudy; so let me make a few specifications. The narrator of this story is Landon Weasley. Landon is looking back on his life at Hogwarts. His parents are Ron and Hermione. His little sister is Emily (Landon and Emily were introduced in my story "A New Beginning" and then again in "Amidst the Pyramids"), and his best friend is Harry's son, James Potter. James' sisters are Evie and Rachel (Harry is married to Ginny, so you can see that they're cousins as well as best friends). I hope that everything is cleared up now. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Mum woke me up on September 1st, I felt as if I would be sick. She must have seen the look on my face, because she tried to comfort me. It did not work very well, though. I thought that perhaps I wouldn't know enough, or my I didn't take enough notes over the summer. Of course, since the notes weren't actually required, I was rather ahead of the game.  
  
Mum had to go to King's cross before I did, so Dad was going to take us in the Porsche. If there was one thing that Dad loved about the Muggle world, it was cars. Well, not cars, just his shiny, black Porsche. He had made quite a few modifications, though. For instance, the passenger side was expanded, so three people could fit in the car, rather than three; the boot was also larger to fit more (like my trunk). At ten-thirty, my trunk was in the boot, Emily was sitting in between Dad and I, and we sped off towards London. At ten of eleven, we were sitting in a very tight traffic jam, Emily was whining, and Dad was getting upset.  
  
"Daddy! Landon's looking at me!" Emily whined.  
  
"I was not! I was looking at the Muggle shops!" I said. Dad wasn't really paying attention, instead he was muttering under his breath and glancing nervously at his watch. He was a little too quiet to hear, but I caught the gist of it.  
  
"Hermione's going to kill me…we'll be late…if the bloody cars would only move…the train's going to leave without us…blimey, first day of school…Mione's going to kill me…"  
  
"Daddy! Landon's doing it again!"  
  
"Landon, leave your sister alone," he said, running his hand through the bright red hair that we Weasleys were known for. Suddenly, he jerked the car to the right, and quickly parallel parked it, not bothering to put any Muggle coins in the parking meter. He undid his seatbelt, and got out. "Come on, you two!" he said to us. We scrambled out of the car quickly and ran over to where he was standing. He grabbed Emily's hand, and turned to me. "Stay close, Landon. Hold on to that owl of yours." We took off running in what I assumed was the general direction of King's Cross Station. Emily eventually was too small and was nearly getting trampled, so Dad hoisted her on to his back. I tried hard to keep up, thinking of the gleaming red Hogwarts Express as my goal, but the sharp pain in my side was starting to slow me down. We had just sprinted nearly six blocks, and there were still another five to go before the station.  
  
Once we arrived, I turned to look at the large clock. It was five minute past eleven; the train would be gone. Dad didn't slow down though. He let Emily down, and nearly threw me through the barrier, and within seconds, they were right behind me. I was yelling at the top of my lungs as I was running towards the train with Dad (Emily had disappeared with Rachel Potter as soon as we had entered the platform). I could see Mum standing and speaking with the conductor. She was looking quite mad, and was profusely apologizing.  
  
"Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad!" I yelled as I jumped on the train. I quickly found James' compartment, and we leaned out the window. I could see Mum and Dad.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Mum was saying to the conductor. "Thank you so, much." Then she turned to Dad. "Where were you? I can't believe that you were late, Ron!"  
  
"There was a traffic jam; it wasn't my fault!" he was protesting.  
  
Mum seemed to calm down a bit more. "Why are you all sweaty?"  
  
Dad shrugged. "We ran the last ten or eleven blocks."  
  
"You what?" Mum asked.  
  
"Well, like I said, there was a traffic jam and it wasn't moving anywhere, so I parked the car and we ran here."  
  
Mum was shaking her head, and it seemed as if she was suppressing a grin. "You're insane."  
  
Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny came to join the two of them as the train was slowly pulling away from the station. Emily and Rachel were looking quite guilty as they smiled innocently at our parents (who were, by no means, fooled). Everyone left on the platform was waving as the train pulled away, and James and I didn't stick our heads inside until we could no longer see the station.  
  
"So, why were you so late?" James asked me, as we snacked on Every Flavor Beans.  
  
"It's a long story," I said. "Are you nervous?"  
  
"Not really," James said with a casual shrug. "I mean, our parents survived, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but our parents could probably survive anything," I said.  
  
James smiled. "So you're nervous, eh mate?"  
  
I shrugged. "A little."  
  
"Why are you so nervous?" he asked. "It's obvious that we'll be in Gryffindor. Honestly, it's a given. Was there ever a Weasley who wasn't? True, my last name's not Weasley, but I'm related. And besides, all of our cousins will be there, and…dude! Your Mum's practically the headmistress!"  
  
This was precisely the reason why I didn't want to tell James. True, he was my best friend, but he had a natural confidence about him that I just didn't have. Sometimes, he just didn't understand that. He didn't need to be smart to be confident, like I did. He had one of those naturally infectious personalities, and you couldn't help but like him. My personality, on the other hand, sort of…grew on you. I never worried about James making fun of any insecurity that I might have, but I didn't want him to think that I was a sissy, either.  
  
"I guess," I said, my anticipation not eased at all.  
  
"So, do you think we're going to have cool adventures and all? You know, like Dad, Uncle Ron and Aunt Mione?" he asked me, obviously satisfied by my half-hearted answer.  
  
"I don't know. Dad said that they didn't look for trouble, it just sort of came to them. I reckon that if we go and run into the Forbidden Forrest, we'll get nothing better than a detention or two," I said.  
  
James looked as if he had just found out that the tooth fairy wasn't real. "Dude! Look at who our parents are! Trouble will definitely find us!"  
  
"Yeah, well speaking of who our parents are, you can get away with getting in trouble; your parents will be miles away. My Mum will be there every day! I couldn't do anything even if I wanted to." I didn't want to.  
  
The door of our compartment flew open, and two of our friends came in. Jessica Thomas' and Fiona Finnigan's parents had been good friends of Mum, Dad, and Uncle Harry. Our families had gotten together a lot over the years, and my little crush on Fiona was no secret.  
  
"Hey, girls!" James called out. That was another trait of James's that I was jealous of: his comfortableness around girls. Maybe that was just his confidence, but for some reason, girls always just flocked around him.  
  
"Hey, James," they said in unison.  
  
"Hi, Landon," Fiona added. That made me quite happy, and my ears turned a bit red. I hated it when that happened.  
  
"So are you excited for school?" James asked Jessie as he pulled that "I need to stretch" maneuver to put his arm around the back of her seat.  
  
"Oh, yes!" Jessie exclaimed. "I'm so excited. I stocked up on tons of your uncles' stuff from Diagon Alley the other day."  
  
"Me too," Fiona put in. "They were all out of Canary Creams, though, but since they know my mum and dad, Mr. Fred…or was it Mr. George? Well anyway, they ordered some especially for me. They're sending it to school as soon as they come in."  
  
"That was probably Uncle George," I said, emerging from my previously quiet state. "Uncle Fred is the one who does the field work and actually sells the product to other joke shops; Uncle George runs the stores and does all of the management work." As if they really cared. All that those two cared about was playing jokes. They were regulars at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
We talked a bit more. Well, actually James did most of the talking. I got rather bored and took out my Transfiguration textbook and began reading it through for the eighth time this week until the door to the compartment opened once again. A girl with soft brown curls, striking green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her straight nose entered.  
  
"Hello," James said, rising and extending his hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm James Potter."  
  
"And I," she said, "Am not so impressed by one's surname. I'm Charlotte Bronte."  
  
Mum's library was filled with books. Books were everywhere- from textbooks to classics. I knew Muggle literature to recognize the name Charlotte Bronte.  
  
"Didn't Charlotte Bronte write "Jane Eyre"?" I asked.  
  
She glared at me. "So you read Victorian Romance novels, eh?" she asked smartly.  
  
What self-respecting male would answer that question in the affirmative? "No, but my Mum's got a huge library. It's one of her favorites. I'm Landon Weasley."  
  
"Great. So, what is this, the celebrity hotbed?" she said.  
  
I, being a Weasley, of course inherited the temper that came along with the hair. "Of course not," I said. "You're here, and nobody knows who you are, unless you count a dead writer who would probably be ashamed that a girl like you shared her name."  
  
"A girl like me? And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked.  
  
"Well, you know. You're not all that pretty, and probably not anywhere near as romantic as the old Charlotte Bronte. My guess is that you have this tough exterior to make up for your insecurities, which are, no doubt, justified," I said. If Mum could have heard that, she would have killed me.  
  
"Why you're a regular old psychologist, aren't you? Well, let me tell you something, Weasley. People may not know who I am, but at least I'm not basking in limelight that I didn't earn. And no matter how hard you try, you will never be as good as your Mum and Dad, so you might as well not even try," she said with a sneer.  
  
James probably sensed that I would have hit her in a few seconds, leaving the code of conduct writhing on the ground, so he did me (and chivalry, for that matter) a favor, and spoke before I got a chance to do so.  
  
"So," he said, standing up and laughing nervously, "What exactly did you come in here for?"  
  
"I was sent back here to tell you all that we're going to be arriving in thirty minutes. Put on your school robes," she said. She turned and left, slamming the door shut behind her.  
  
"I hope she's not in Gryffindor," Fiona whined. She was expecting Gryffindor house, like the rest of us were.  
  
"Me, too," I said. I would be the first to admit that she was pretty, but there was no way that I could stand spending seven years with that girl.  
  
When we arrived at the school, Hagrid (a very large man with a tangle of gray hair and beard whom James and I'd known nearly all of our lives), took all of us first years across the lake in boats. For all of the numerous times that I had been there, Hogwarts was still an astounding sight to behold.  
  
Professor McGonagall opened thick wooden doors to let us into the castle. She then took us into this small room and explained to us about the sorting before leading us into the Great Hall. She smiled (yes, smiled) at me. She had always liked me, even when I was little.  
  
"I'll be expecting great things from you, Mr. Weasley," she said to me as she passed me on her way to the staff table.  
  
We got in line as Mum brought out a stool and the Sorting Hat on it. One by one, students filed up as my mum called their names:  
  
"Adamson, Luke!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Bolding, Leonora!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Bronte, Charlotte!"  
  
As Charlotte approached the stool, Mum smiled a bit and spoke to Charlotte. No doubt she was talking about her name, but since Charlotte smiled and spoke in a normal tone, I assumed that she was sucking up to the teacher.  
  
Charlotte sat down on the stool as she put the hat on. It fell over her eyes, as she slouched there. After what seemed like an eternity, the hat still had not decided. She lifted the tip and looked up at Mum, who looked rather curious. Mum turned to speak with the headmaster, and then spoke quietly to Charlotte who nodded before walking to sit at the Hufflepuff table. None of the Hufflepuffs clapped; I didn't think that they knew what exactly was going on. To be honest, neither did I.  
  
"Finnigan, Fiona!" came after awhile.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!  
  
After quite a few people were sorted (including Jessie, who also went to Gryffindor), James' name was called. He confidently walked up to the stool and sat down. Mum smiled at him as the hat placed him in Gryffindor.  
  
I, of course, was the last to be placed in a house. For a horrifying moment, I thought about what it might be like if I got put in Slytherin. I would be the first Weasley ever not to be in Gryffindor. And all Gryffindors hate Slytherin. Would my family hate me then?  
  
"Weasley, Landon!" finally came, and Mum smiled reassuringly at me as I sat down rather nervously. The hat didn't even touch my head before it called out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Mum and Dad suspect that the Weasley hair might give off some sort of weird vibe.  
  
I sat down with my cousins (who make up the majority of Gryffindor house- my dad was one of seven, what do you expect?) and Professor Dumbledore feebly stood up to make his speech. The glittering golden plates in front of me were taunting me with the knowledge that they would soon be filled with the most delicious food this side of the equator. I barely even heard the Headmaster's speech; I was so hungry. Finally, though, it ended and we dug in. I imagined Emily at home, pouting because Dad was making her eat her green beans. But then I thought that Dad probably wouldn't make her since Mum wasn't home. 


	3. Chapter Two

My first day of classes flew by swiftly. All of the teachers knew me and were impressed with how quickly I'd learned over the summer. Except for McGonagall, that is. James and I walked into class and took seats in the middle (I wanted to sit in the front and he was a fan of the back row, so we compromised). I sat up straight, but James slouched a bit, talking to a boy named Matt that we'd only just met. When Professor McGonagall walked into the room, everything got quiet. She took out a piece of parchment and called role. Once we had all responded, she surveyed the room; some of my classmates actually flinched under her piercing gaze. James whispered a joke and I chuckled a bit, but soon I realized that I'd made a huge mistake.  
  
"Potter! Weasley!" James sat up straight immediately, cowering under her stare. She continued, "There will be no fooling around in this class. That goes for the rest of you as well."  
  
Welcome to Transfiguration.  
  
She began to speak again, but was interrupted by the opening of the door. In walked Charlotte Bronte. But she was placed in Hufflepuff, this class was a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw class, why was she here? She handed a note to McGonagall and waited for her to finish reading it. The professor nodded and Charlotte took a seat in the front row.  
  
"Class," McGonagall said, "I'm sure that you all recall Ms. Bronte's turn of events with the Sorting Hat last night? The Headmaster and Professors Weasley and Snape have determined that Ms. Bronte shows the exemplary characteristics of a Gryffindor, and she will be joining that house."  
  
I groaned a little too loudly, for McGonagall shot me another look. If there was one person (other than Mum) that I didn't want to piss off, it was Minerva McGonagall.  
  
"Will someone define Transfiguration for me, please?" she asked the class. I raised my hand high at such a simple question, and found that someone else knew the answer as well. "Next time, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said to me. "Ms. Bronte, can you answer the question, please?"  
  
Charlotte put her hand down and smugly said, "Transfiguration, Professor, can be defined as the manual change of an object from one state to another by an outside body." She turned around and shot me an "I'm-better-than-you" glance.  
  
"Five points to Gryffindor," McGonagall told her.  
  
Indeed, I did answer the next question. Charlotte answered the one after that. I answered the one after that. And so ensued the intellectual battle between Charlotte and I. I could see that I would clearly have a run for my money on my way to the top of the class, but I was up for the challenge. I walked out of the classroom, fuming.  
  
"This is war, Weasley," Charlotte said as she passed me, purposely bumping into me and making me drop my books. I didn't bother to pick them up.  
  
Instead, I looked her in the eye and narrowed my gaze, hoping to intimidate her. That didn't work, for she only did the same. "Bring it on," I told her, emphasizing every syllable. She turned away and stomped off down the hallway as I bent down to pick up my books.  
  
"I dunno, mate," James said as he clapped my on the shoulder. "Either I want to kill her, or I'm starting to like her. I rolled my eyes at my cousin. He had girls on the brain, sometimes. We walked back to Gryffindor tower and exchanged our books before going to Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
I was especially looking forward to her class; she had never let me sit in on one. Everyone liked her because of her energy, and she made learning fun. All of her students looked forward to the moments when she would forget and tell a story from her Auror days, or (better yet) her school days with Dad and Uncle Harry.  
  
We tried to arrive at the classroom early to beat the mad scramble for front row seats, but the door was locked and everyone was lined up outside. Mum could be seen down the hallway, heatedly talking with Professor Delacour, the new Divination professor. It appeared as if they were both on the brink of exploding into a shouting match. We all looked on intently, hoping that Mum would just haul off and curse her.  
  
"Come on, give it to her, Professor!" Jessie was muttering next to Fiona.  
  
Professor Delacour, though, stomped off huffily and Mum walked collectedly toward the classroom. It appeared that she had won the row, which wasn't a surprise. In a battle of the wits, no one could beat Mum. Dad could give her a run for her money in shouting matches though.  
  
Mum tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. She rummaged around in her briefcase for her wand, and whispered an opening charm, but the door still remained stolid.  
  
"Sorry, dearie, but I don't know who you are," the door said in a cheerfully shrill voice. Some of the Muggle-born students jumped and gasped here and there. "I can't let you in if I don't know who you are. What if I was letting a criminal in this classroom? Now, come on then, tell me your name and your business, or I won't open up."  
  
"I'm Professor Weasley, now-"  
  
"Sorry, what's your full name?" the door asked.  
  
Mum sighed exasperatedly before impatiently saying, "Hermione Granger- Weasley. Open up please?"  
  
"What's your business inside this classroom, then?"  
  
"I have to teach my class, so you'd better open up within the next five seconds, or I'll have to blow you into thousands of tiny pieces. I've given you fair warning, now."  
  
"Sorry, I'll have to know a little bit more about you before I can do that," the door said again.  
  
"That's it," Mum said. "Class, stand back, please? Esau-"  
  
The door swung open before she could utter the rest of the spell.  
  
"Thank you," Mum said as she put her wand back into her briefcase and we followed her inside. "New classroom this year," she explained to us. "They have to get to know you before they really trust you. Sorry about that."  
  
We all took our seats. There was one left in the front row, but wouldn't you know, Charlotte beat me to it. She gave me a haughty little look as I took a seat next to James in the third row. Mum called role, as all teachers did at the start of class.  
  
As if she couldn't help it, one Hufflepuff named Anna raised her hand before Mum could even speak or sit down.  
  
Mum looked a little surprised, but said, "Yes, Anna Marie?"  
  
"Just 'Anna' is fine, Professor, but…could you tell us about when you were in school? I've heard so much about you, and I'd like to know how much was myth. Could you tell us a story about you and Ron Weasley and Harry Potter?" Anna asked, all very fast.  
  
Mum rested her hands on her desk, leaning forward on them. "Well, Anna, there was this one time when the three of us ran into the Forbidden Forrest under the orders of the Headmaster. And the strangest things started happening. First, we started remembering things that we didn't even know that we knew."  
  
"Like what?" asked a boy named Douglass as the class leaned forward in suspense.  
  
"Well, we remembered that…" (A gasp from the class) "Defense Against the Dark Arts Class is very important and for learning, not stories," she said as we all sat back in disappointment. Mum caught my eye and winked at me before continuing with her class expectations, rules, and curriculum. She assigned our homework (Read Chapter One and take notes with a summary of fifteen inches of centimeters of parchment by tomorrow) and told us that we need not worry about bringing books to class the rest of this week, only our wands.  
  
Mum's class was a bit of a disappointment for all of us. We were expecting exciting stories about Death Eaters, or even about some of their battles with Voldemort. I had heard the story of his death many times, though, so it really wouldn't have been entirely fascinating:  
  
Voldemort had been betrayed by one of his own followers who had previously been under the influence of the Imperius Curse- my uncle, Percy Weasley. Uncle Percy claimed to have been controlled by Voldemort during his sentence in Azkaban after Mum had convicted him. In his appeal, he said that he would prove his innocence by telling the Ministry the whereabouts of the Dark lord. The Ministry took this gesture to mean that he was innocent. He led the most powerful team of aurors- Sirius Black, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore- to Voldemort's hideout. They captured him and brought him to Azkaban where they debated his fate. Mum and Dumbledore stopped the Ministry from acting on what they had proposed: they had planned on bringing in the living families of his victims to watch him tortured until he succumbed to death. Mum and Dumbledore convinced them not to torture him, lest they yield to the cruelty that had destroyed the life of Tom Marvolo Riddle. They had let him live long enough for the screams of his victims echo in his ears as they killed him while the entire wizarding world watched from their fireplaces as Uncle Sirius, Uncle Harry, Mum, Dad, Mr. Lupin, and Professor Dumbledore said the curse that would kill the most evil being in all the world. The word of Mum's mercy spread and the people loved her even more…but that's another story entirely.  
  
Although the story was familiar to me, not everyone had heard it; after all, it had happened long before we were born. Since then, Mum had retired as an auror, occasionally working as an attorney on the Ministry's more challenging cases. Dad was a doctor of Magical Animal Research and Biology, and head of the Magical Creatures Department in the Ministry. Uncle Harry, now retired from Quidditch, was Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.  
  
Quite often, I think that Aunt Ginny knew how I felt. She had to grow up with "The Three Musketeers", as they were often called. Well, I wouldn't be like Aunt Ginny. I would probe to everyone that I was much more than Ron and Hermione's son. Everyone would remember Landon Ronald Weasley that was for sure.  
  
I set down my goblet of pumpkin juice with resolve, causing my cousin to look at me oddly. He shrugged and went back to flirting with Alice Patil, a third year who was, by far, out of his league.  
  
There was a rumble of voices in the Great Hall as whispers flew throughout. A tall man with killer sunglasses, a briefcase slung over his shoulder that was covered by a designer leather jacket, a suit (minus coat and tie) and flaming red hair walked in between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff house tables and ruffled up my matching hair.  
  
My dad was the coolest.  
  
Everyone in the school knew him; he came to just spend time with Mum (for being married for awhile they sure were in love), take her out to lunch, or just take his regular seat at the staff table. He kissed her on the cheek (oblivious to the fact that the entire Great Hall was watching), and gained a particularly nasty glare from Professor Snape who despised every emotion that wasn't hatred or cynicism.  
  
Dad was still unaware that the entire school was listening when he told Snape, "Look, just because you haven't gotten any in the past three hundred years doesn't mean that you have to take it out on those of us who have, thank you very much."  
  
We all gasped, alerting Dad to our continuous eavesdropping. His ears turned a bit red, and under normal circumstances, Mum would have been the first person to yell at him for setting a bad example. Not today, though, for her hand was clapped over her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle her laughter. The Headmaster, of all people, began to chuckle softly, and soon we were all doubled over in laughter.  
  
"Way to go, Dr. Weasley!" someone yelled.  
  
"Awesome, Uncle Ron!"  
  
Of course, I had to put in my six pence, "Yeah, Dad!"  
  
The laughter subsided after a bit, and Dad sat down at his seat and pulled a folder out of his briefcase that he and Mum began pouring over. I went back to trying to convincing James that Alice Patil was most definitely not interested. James, ever the optimist (or just full of himself, I sometimes wonder about that), refused to listen.  
  
"Chill, Landon, I can handle this. It's all under control. Check this out, I saw it on a Muggle fellytision-"  
  
"Television."  
  
"Whatever, I saw it on a Muggle TV show." He turned to Alice, who had previously ignored all of his futile advances (rightfully so, if you ask me), and said to her, "How you doin'?"  
  
I nearly sprayed pumpkin juice all over the table. He forgot that my Mum was Muggle-born, and we had a television, thank you very much. Alice Patil looked at him as if he'd sprouted a third nostril before going back to her conversation with our cousin, David (Uncle Bill's son).  
  
"Sorry mate," I told him.  
  
"What do you mean, sorry? She looked at me, dude! She's caught in my tractor beam, now! Why, any day now, she'll be in the clutches of James Potter- the chick magnet, the manly man, the babe machine, and the studliest of the wudliest!"  
  
"What's a 'wudliest'?" I asked, but my question was ignored when Charlotte Bronte walked in carrying an armful of books. She dropped them on the table with a thud and sat down in the only available seat. I was having such good luck today, that it turned out that the only empty seat was next to James.  
  
"Whoa, Bronte! What are you trying to do, read the entire library?" James asked.  
  
"Actually," she replied while helping herself to a biscuit and apparently not catching his sarcasm, "I have a few goals. First, I'm going to beat Weasley here to the top of the class. Second, I'm going to break all of those records that his mother set."  
  
"No one can beat my Mum," I said, my dander rising.  
  
"I don't think that she was that smart, if you ask me," Charlotte said with disdain.  
  
Weasley hair brings Weasley temper. Granger brains bring Granger wit.  
  
"Well, you know what? No one did ask you. And if you weren't a girl, I'd hit you so hard that when you came to, you'd be the oldest first year in Hogwarts history!"  
  
Case in point.  
  
Charlotte stood up, as if to challenge me, and I stood up as well. She opened her mouth to say something in rebuttal, but someone could be heard calling my name, making me turn away.  
  
"Oy! Landon!" Dad was calling. I walked up to the staff table and he handed me the aforementioned folder. Inside was a picture of a huge house, as well as pictures of room upon room and every angle of landscape that you could ever ask to see. I looked up.  
  
"What do you think?" Dad asked me.  
  
"What would you think if we moved there?" Mum asked me.  
  
"I like it; we're moving?" I asked.  
  
Mum and Dad exchanged a glance before Dad said, "We're thinking about it. Would you like to live there?" In Dad language- we're moving, so you'd better get used to it.  
  
"Awesome! When are we moving?" I said. In Landon language- well I have to, so I'd better make the best of it.  
  
"Don't get to excited," Mum said, "It's in Italy." In Mum language- it's going to suck. That would mean that I would have to leave my friends, my family, and everything that I had ever known. It didn't cross my mind that Mum and Dad would be making the same sacrifices. Even though Mum and Dad were asking my opinion, I knew that the decision had been made. I also had a feeling that there was something that they weren't telling me, but hey, that was Mum and dad.  
  
I put on a grin anyway, and said, "It looks great! When are we moving?"  
  
"In two weeks," Mum answered, confirming my suspicion that this decision had been made quite some time ago. Something was up, then. Never had I once heard them say anything about moving; or about moving to Italy, no less.  
  
The students began to file out of the Hall, and I followed after saying goodbye to Mum and Dad.  
  
Dad apparently didn't realize the impact of his little comment to Snape that was made at lunch. I had Potions next, and Snape made my hour and a half a living hell. He split James and me up, and partnered me with a Luke Adamson, a Slytherin. That wasn't as bad as James, though. He got stuck with Charlotte. He didn't really seem to mind, though. They were laughing it up over something or other. So, James had sunk to an all-time low in my mind. He was chatting up the girl who was steadily becoming my arch nemesis. But then again, James could chat-up anything female that moved.  
  
Snape circled the room, sneering at the students' work. It turned out that Luke Adamson was a step away from being a squib, so I ended up doing the majority of the work on our Melting Potion (a rather hard potion for the first day of school, if you ask me). The class went by painfully slowly, and I was so thankful to be out of the soggy smell of the dungeons.  
  
James and Charlotte were walking in front of me, and I head snippets of their conversation:  
  
"That class wasn't so bad," Charlotte said. "I heard that Snape was horrible. Oh, and he is, of course, but I had fun."  
  
"Me too," James said.  
  
Honestly, you'd think that they'd just come home from a date the way they were talking.  
  
"I have to be honest, you're not as bad as I thought that you would be. It's a shame that your friend isn't more like you."  
  
I stopped dead in my tracks.  
  
"Yeah, well," James said, "Landon's like that sometimes. You get used to it. But he's a pretty cool guy, cut him some slack."  
  
My own best friend was barely defending me. I took out my timetable to see that we had a free period. There was no way that I was going back to the Common Room to watch him and Bronte flirting all period. So I did the next best thing; I went to the library.  
  
I threw my bag down by a comfy armchair, getting a wart glance from Mister Redman, the librarian, but I didn't care. I went to the bookshelf containing "Hogwarts: Yet Another Revised History" and flipped it open to the index to find Mum's name. There was a whole chapter on the "Three Musketeers" I found, and sat down to read all of it. I saw that Mum had set the school record for O.W.Ls (20- the highest was previously 15) and N.E.W.Ts (175, previously 160). So now I had my goal. I would get a 25 on my O.W.Ls and a 180 on my N.E.W.Ts.  
  
Take that, Hermione Granger.  
  
For me the next few weeks of school, I studied more than anyone on the face of the planet. I spent every waking moment in the library. On the night of the Halloween Feast, I ran to the library to avoid questions from my cousins. I found that the library was closed, but I saw a light flickering inside. I pushed open the door as quietly as I could and found Mum sitting at one of the tables, engrossed in a gigantic tome. The old floor creaked, alerting her to my presence.  
  
"Landon? Darling, what are you doing here? Why aren't you at the feast?" she asked me.  
  
"Oh, I came to study," I said proudly, hoping that she would be euphoric about this revelation. Instead, she laughed at me.  
  
"Landon, please, I'm your mother. I know when something is bothering you," she said, closing the large volume and disappearing into the restricted section to deposit it on its proper shelf.  
  
"Really, I want to study," I said as she reappeared. She gave me one of those skeptical Mum looks, saying quite plainly that she in no way believed me.  
  
However, she answered by saying, "All right. The library is closed, though."  
  
"Well…" I said, hopefully, "If I had special permission from a teacher and I was supervised…"  
  
"Sorry," she said, putting her arm around me, "I'm off to meet your Dad and Uncle Harry for dinner."  
  
"Why do you always go out on Halloween without Aunt Ginny, Mum?" I asked her.  
  
She smiled rather wistfully. "It's our anniversary," she said. "We became friends on October the thirty-first…let's see, twenty-five years ago today."  
  
I didn't get it, but I nodded anyway. I walked down to the Feast and took a seat next to James. Much to my dismay, he was sitting with Charlotte.  
  
"Nice of you to join us, dude," he said. "I thought that you'd died or something." He went back to talking to Charlotte about something, or someone- I'm not sure which, and I realized for the first time how much I had missed while in the library. I asked myself then- are grades, records, and such as important as friends?  
  
I noticed, also, that James and Charlotte had become quite popular for first-years. Everyone seemed to know them…and not just in Gryffindor, either. People from other houses would come over and say hello to them. That rather upset me, because James had always been my best friend. Now I was sharing him with some girl that I hated with a passion.  
  
Charlotte…she was just infuriating. She was showing me up in class, humiliating me sometimes, trying to prove that she was better than me. Now she was taking my best friend, too. Worse, my Mum liked her a lot! She was always praising her in class, and would call me up to her desk after class to ask why I wasn't working to my potential. She was stealing my mother! All right, so maybe that was a little melodramatic, but I was in quite an overreacting mood at the time; give me a break! I couldn't take it anymore, and shoved away from the table, walking up to my dormitory.  
  
I picked up one of my favorite books- not a textbook, either, but a real novel. It was about a wizard who lost his powers and got trapped in the Muggle world. A pair of socks that the house-elves had just washed rolled off of my bed, and under James's. I crawled down to pick them up, and saw something etched on the bottom of his bed.  
  
'Harry Potter' was carved in the wood. This had been Uncle Harry's bed. I looked under mine, and saw 'Ron Weasley' as well as 'RW+HG'. Weird. Of course, I scrawled a rather untidy 'Landon Weasley' underneath of Dad's name. Now my name would always be a part of Hogwarts.  
  
James came in while I was under my bed, and screamed when he saw only my feet sticking out. I came out and he laughed.  
  
"Dude! That was creepy!"  
  
I laughed at him.  
  
"I've got to show you something," he said, walking over to his trunk. "Look what my dad sent me!" He picked out something that was long and silvery and draped it over his shoulders. My eyes grew wide. "I know!" James exclaimed, before I could say anything. "It was his when he was in school, and his dad's before him. It probably goes back in our family generations before that. He said that I could only tell you- he only told your Dad." He took off the invisibility cloak and dug further in his trunk before pulling out a piece of rumpled parchment.  
  
"What's that?" I asked.  
  
James smiled mischievously, and took out his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said. Lines appeared like spiders all over it. "The Marauders Map," he announced. "Created by…ready for this? Created by James Potter- not me, but my grandfather- Peter Pettigrew, whoever the hell he is, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black."  
  
"Awesome! We know who made it!" I said, looking at it closely, and seeing the labeled dots moving back and forth.  
  
"I know!" James said. "Here's my idea. When did our dad's have their first adventure?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "In their first year," I said. "On Halloween."  
  
"Right!" he exclaimed. "Grab your wand! Let's go!"  
  
"What are we doing?" I asked, pulling on my sneakers and picking up my wand.  
  
He shrugged. "We're having an adventure." 


	4. Chapter Three

(A/N: Hey! Here is what is going to happen. I'm not going to upload for a little bit after this chapter to tie up all of the loose ends of my two other ongoing fics. I'm horrible with finishing things like that…sorry. So, here's the thing- since this is going to be a rather long story, I figure that I'll want to be focused on it, rather than my other two. They need to be finished, anyway. So…enjoy this chapter, I'll be back with the next in two weeks or so.)  
  
  
  
  
  
James and I walked down the stairs into Gryffindor Common Room, where people were still sitting and talking. We snuck into a corner, and threw the cloak over us and crept into the hallway. I don't know why, but he started walking to the left, so I kind of followed him. Then, he turned into corridors and hallways that I had never been down. We ended up in the trophy room.  
  
"Char?" he called out, once he had closed the door and we had taken off the invisibility cloak.  
  
I groaned.  
  
"Over here, James," she said, stepping out of the shadows. She saw me and her face fell. "Oh. You're here."  
  
"Nice one," I said, "Are you always this perceptive?"  
  
"Just get under here, Charlotte," James said, stopping the impending row. He threw the cloak over all three of us and we left the trophy room.  
  
"Where are we going?" I asked again.  
  
"Sod off, Weasley," Charlotte said to me. I gave her a bit of a shove, and (of course) saw Mum's face in my head telling me never to hit a girl. I promptly ignored her, though, when Charlotte shoved me even harder.  
  
"You guys, give it a rest!" James whispered harshly, getting in between us. "You're ruining the adventure for me!"  
  
I was tempted to say, 'what adventure' but didn't think that it was the most opportune time to say it. I was already a little mad at James for hauling me out of bed in the middle of the night and making me walk around school underneath of an invisibility cloak and saying that we were being adventurous. He also had to be a prat and bring Bronte along.  
  
We walked around the first floor. We walked around the second floor. We walked around the third floor. We were everywhere, and it was four in the morning.  
  
"This adventure sucks," James said. "Why did you drag me on this, Landon?"  
  
I was about to protest until I caught the hint of derision in his voice.  
  
"We haven't gone to the dungeons, yet," Charlotte said, half asleep and only half articulate since she was speaking through a yawn.  
  
"Awesome," James said, pulling us towards the nearest staircase. We walked down what seemed like a million flights of steps (in reality, it was only seven), and we finally reached the dungeons. Why anyone would want a class down there was beyond me. We walked around a bit more (I think that James was in search of a Mountain Troll or something) and were about to leave when we heard voices coming from one of the "empty" classrooms. Of course, being the adventurous thrill seekers that we were, we walked over to the door and peered inside. Someone was sitting by a cauldron that was serving as a fireplace, speaking to the head of a very pale, nervous looking man. My first impression of him was that he looked severely like a rat. We crept inside further, but Charlotte (she was sort of clumsy in our first few years) tripped over the hem of the invisibility cloak, sending the three of us sprawled on the floor. The person stood up, abruptly, her flaxen hair spilling out from a purple cloak, revealing that it was Professor Delacour. Upon being spotted, we did the only respectable thing that could be done in that situation.  
  
We ran like hell.  
  
Professor Delacour didn't teach any of our classes, so we weren't really worried about her recognizing us. But then, I realized that anyone with hair like mine could easily be identified as a Weasley.  
  
It took us a bit (three flights of stares and quite a few cramps) to realize that Professor Delacour wasn't following us, before we slowed down and heard voices inside the room that we had just stopped in front of. Well, since we were on a roll and just a few centimeters away from expulsion, we put our ears to the door.  
  
"But, we can't be sure about anything. There's no logical explanation for it, is there? Because if either of you can think of a reason, I'd gladly hear it," said a woman's voice that I recognized as Mum's.  
  
"I understand that we don't have any certainty, Hermione. But we need to act on this, even if just on instinct. I remember backing you up on quite a few of your gut-feelings, only to find that your suspicions were correct. Couldn't you offer me the same courtesy? Or don't you believe me?" said a man's voice that sounded familiar.  
  
"Sirius, It's not that I don't believe you," Mum was saying, "It's just that I don't want to go rushing into something when hundreds of lives could be on the line. We don't even know if they're going to act."  
  
"Mione, isn't that why you're on this job? To see if they're going to act?" came Dad's voice.  
  
"I haven't any leads yet. I don't trust Fleur, but that's not enough to wage an entire army on, is it?" Mum said, frustrated.  
  
We turned from the door as we heard footsteps coming down the hallway. We turned and were frightened to see Uncle Harry striding down the corridor in our direction. We hurried to get out of the way, but he heard the scuffling.  
  
He pointed his wand at us and said, "Who's there?" These words extracted the heads of Mum, Dad and Uncle Sirius from what was apparently the staff room. James held up one finger, then two, then three. Simultaneously, we inched away from the door as our relatives walked out and looked around.  
  
Uncle Sirius pointed his wand…somewhere, and said, "Accio Invisibility Cloak!" It flew off of our backs, revealing the three of us, wide-eyed and terror-filled. The adults grew livid as they saw us standing there. Finally, Dad yanked the door to the staff room open and pointed that we should enter. We walked in, shame-faced, and sat on the mismatched couches and armchairs.  
  
Mum paced in front of the three of us, her arms crossed, as the other three adults sat fuming.  
  
Charlotte opened her mouth to say something, but James and I both elbowed her. When Mum wanted to speak, she would. James and I had both found this out from experience.  
  
Finally, Mum pointed at Charlotte and said, "Explain."  
  
"Well, Professor-"  
  
I winced. Bad move.  
  
Mum did as I predicted and cut Charlotte off: "No, no, no! Don't 'professor' me, young lady! I know that trick, and let me tell you something: I perfected it! Don't you dare try those schoolgirl games with me, miss!"  
  
"Well…erm, ma'am-"  
  
Once again, Mum cut Charlotte off. "No, not you, Bronte. You've lost your chance to speak Landon, explain."  
  
"Well, ma'am, we were walking along outside when we heard voices and…well, we are your children, and we couldn't help ourselves. We had to listen, it was our duty," I said. As soon as it was out of my mouth I realized that I shouldn't have said it.  
  
"What he means, Aunt Mione," James interjected as Mum whirled around to yell at me, "He means that we happened to hear you three talking in here, and we had to make sure that you weren't students disobeying rules, you see, and-"  
  
"Enough, James!" Mum said. "Why were you three out of bed in the first place?"  
  
"We…we wanted to be like you?" I tried, hoping that backhanded flattery might score us some points. Obviously, it didn't.  
  
"Oh, I see, you wanted to be like us!" she exclaimed. "Well, that explains everything, doesn't it?! Please, Landon, James. One doesn't have to have known you since birth to realize that you're lying. Tell me the truth, now."  
  
So, I spilled out with the entire truth, omitting only the part about Professor Delacour, because it still confused me. No doubt that Mum would only make it cloudier. Mum seemed satisfied with what I said.  
  
"Fifty points from Gryffindor," she said, ever the disciplinarian.  
  
"That's not too bad," James said, under his breath.  
  
Mum caught everything. I don't know how, but she did. "But you see, James, I meant fifty points each."  
  
"One-hundred and fifty points?" Charlotte exclaimed. "But, Professor! Don't you care about Gryffindor?"  
  
Mum was given the position of Head of Gryffindor House two years ago. "Oh, but I do, Charlotte," she did. "I think the Gryffindor loyalties have been displayed tonight, haven't they? I am not the one who doesn't care about my house, am I?" She turned away, as Charlotte tried to hide the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "They're all yours, Sirius," she told my uncle.  
  
He stood up and paced in front of us, much like Mum had done.  
  
"Grandfather," James said, hoping to pull the innocent grandson routine that would have easily worked on our Grandfather Weasley.  
  
"James, I don't want to hear it. Do you have any idea of what you have just done?" he said, running his hand through his semi-long graying hair. We shook our heads no in a proper response. He looked at us, as if to explain what exactly it was that we were guilty of, but he shook his head, deciding better of it. Instead, he asked, "How much did you hear?"  
  
"Not much," I answered. "And whatever we heard didn't make any sense, anyway. Something about not trusting Professor Delacour, and a job, and acting on something or other." Honestly, that was all that I remembered.  
  
The adults exchanged glances, and Uncle Harry approached us.  
  
"We're going to let you three go, but listen to me. I don't ever want to hear that you've been sneaking around again, all right? If I hear one thing from Hermione, I'm going to make sure that you three get transferred to Beauxbatons, that's how serious this is. Do you understand me?"  
  
We nodded.  
  
It was Dad's turn to speak, now. "I'm very disappointed in you, Landon, James. I don't know you Charlotte, but I'm disappointed that you let these two talk you into this. All that Hermione and Harry and I did in school was very much against the rules, and we're lucky that we got away with it. There were quite a few times that we nearly stared death in the eye, and I don't want that to happen to you, too."  
  
Uncle Harry stepped forward again. "James, the invisibility cloak, please."  
  
"But Dad!" James protested.  
  
"No buts, son. I gave this to you in case you may need it- not for you to abuse it. Hand it over, and the Marauders Map as well." James reluctantly handed them to Uncle Harry, and Mum and Dad got a look of nostalgia on their faces as the three of them looked at the rumpled parchment.  
  
"Still works," Dad marveled.  
  
Mum turned back to us. "You three are dismissed. I never, ever want to see you three out after curfew again, do you understand? I'll not give you a pass back to Gryffindor Tower. Serves you right if Filch catches you. And if I ever…ever hear that you three have told anyone about what you've heard tonight, I will have you expelled faster than you could protest, understand? Yes, Landon, even you. Good night." We turned to leave, and I sent one last apologetic look at Mum and Dad before leaving. "I'm especially disappointed in you, Landon," I heard Mum say to me before I closed the door.  
  
Once I had closed it, I heard Dad say, "What are we going to do with them…"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Ladies and Gentlemen: I apologize for the short chapter. Sorry ( 


	5. Chapter Four

A/N: I would like to offer my supreme thanks to my favorite beta-reader Circinius for letting me borrow her characters Loren Chapman-Weasley and Kate from her story "About Time" –I command you to go read it now! This chapter is confusing, and meant to be… enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Bronte had this crazy idea that since we got in trouble together, had to serve a detention with Snape together, and lost one hundred fifty points together that we should be friends. And she tried, too. She would talk about "the three of us" like it was something special, when in reality, she was just the tag-along. But when she was around James…I was the odd man out.  
  
It had been a week since we had gotten in trouble, and we hadn't talked about our misadventure at all. Most of Gryffindor house wasn't speaking to us, so we found solace in each other. Well, James found solace in both of us- I still hated Charlotte.  
  
The only upper-classmen who were speaking to us were our cousins. That was kind of embarrassing- only your family would talk to you. Actually, I think that their parents were making them talk to us. Could this get worse?  
  
Yes.  
  
James invited Charlotte to spend Christmas with him. That's fine, why should I care? The Weasley family always spent Christmas holidays together. This year, it was our turn to host in our new house. Yes, Bronte would be at my house. I couldn't hole myself up in the library then. Well, no doubt our new house would have a library; Mum wouldn't stand for it any other way. She also wouldn't stand for me spending my entire holiday in the library, especially when we were the hosts. It just wasn't good manners.  
  
Screw manners, I hated the girl.  
  
I had time, though. Christmas wasn't for another two months, give or take a few days. Maybe I could cause an accident during Astronomy, and Bronte might just happen to slip and fall off the tower during one of our stargazing classes. Oops! Sorry, Professor, I guess she just slipped.  
  
I always enjoyed Christmas with my family. All of my cousins were a lot of fun to be around. No, sorry, all of my family was fun to be around.  
  
Uncle Bill married Aunt Victoria after they met while working together with Gringotts. After they were stationed in Hawaii, they decided to quit their jobs as Curse-breakers, and come back to work in the Ministry (don't ask me why; if I were stationed in Hawaii, you can bet your life that I'd be staying there- tropical island vs. rainy city…go figure) in the Magical Abuse Department.  
  
They had two children. Two boys, actually, named Daniel and David. Daniel is in his seventh year, one of the two oldest Weasley grandchildren. He's Head Boy, taking after his father, I suppose. David is shy and quiet in his third year. He has friends, and most of the girls liked him (strong and silent, I guess), but overall, he prefers to stay in the background.  
  
Uncle Charlie was married to Aunt Loren. They were regulars at our house (almost like my third set of parents- Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were my second, of course). Aunt Loren and Dad had special bond that Dad didn't really have with any of his other sisters-in-law. He was as close to Aunt Loren as he was to Aunt Ginny. Maybe more so, come to think of it. Uncle Charlie and Dad were also partners in their practice. But I thought that there was much more to the Weasley Brothers than met the eye. Mum also had a close relationship with both of them as well. She and Uncle Charlie teamed up in the constant battle against Dad and Aunt Loren in their constant teasing of each other. She and Aunt Loren also became very close friends. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Loren had only one daughter, Kate, who was the oldest Weasley grandchild along with Uncle Bill's Daniel (they were much like James and I, complete opposites and yet best friends. Actually, more like twins- they had the same birthday).  
  
Kate was everyone's favorite cousin; in fact, James even had a crush on her before I told him that it was illegal. Kate was, indeed, a true Weasley only with slight Chapman altercations. She, unlike Uncle Charlie but much like Aunt Loren, displayed multiple personalities. There was her docile and sweet one; her tomboyish and rugged one; her wild, feisty and mischievous Weasley one; her coy flirtatiousness; her stubbornness and compassionate personalities, topped off with deep red hair, remarkable green eyes, and contagious smile was my cousin Kate.  
  
In essence (or in my opinion, I have yet to figure it out), Kate was not only my cousin, not only my friend and not only my role model, but she exuded all of the qualities of (drum role, please!) "Landon Weasley's Perfect Woman". Obviously, my perfect woman would NOT be my cousin, thank you very much.  
  
Uncle Percy, while he was under the Imperius Curse, had committed several crimes. One of them was killing his Muggle-born fiancé, Penelope Clearwater. Once the curse was released and he realized what he had done, he separated himself from the world, everything that he loved, everything that Penny loved and anything that reminded her of him. He was still so filled with remorse that he still could not bare to even think of loving another woman in the way that he loved Penelope. Thus said, he remained unmarried, a confirmed old bachelor. He worked for the Ministry, now Head of the Department of Magical/Muggle Relations.  
  
Uncle George had not married, either. He claimed, and I quote, "I prefer to exercise my masculinity as I sample the full palate of the feminine gender." I still swear that I had a cousin, who was in her sixth year while I was in my first. It was of Mum's opinion that some woman would tame his wild ways, one of these days.  
  
Uncle Fred was unlike his twin in this respect. He settled down relatively early after his Hogwarts days with Angelina Johnson and had four children, incidentally two sets of twins who were all constantly fighting.  
  
Of course, any time that we all got together, it was always a fun occasion. We took turns hosting Christmas and family get-togethers, and since we had just bought a new (although it was hundreds of years old) Italian chateau, it seemed like the perfect place to host Grandmum and Grandpa's fiftieth wedding anniversary party on November 15th.  
  
Mum was nearly insane by the week of the party. She had this way about her, so it seemed, that whatever she would do would have to be over-the-top perfect. To add to this wonderful effect, Grandmum and Grandpa wouldn't know about the party at all, which caused her even more problems. I think that Dad secretly enjoyed watching her go mad; I know that I did.  
  
All eight of us grandchildren who were at school were permitted to go home for three days for the party, starting on the fourteenth. I was relieved to have time away from Charlotte, and James was relieved to have time away from classes. We were going home by Portkey from The Three Broomsticks with Mum the night of the thirteenth. The Portkey was going to leave at six o'clock and we were all rushing to finish our last-minute packing and get to Hogsmeade in fifteen minutes. Mum burst into Gryffindor Tower, which she didn't often due, yelling at us to hurry up, please, and sufficiently frightening some first years. Kate was hurrying Evie out of her dormitory, and we all managed to get to the Portkey on time.  
  
Much as I suspected, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Loren and the Potters were at our house already. We all gaped at the house, as a very large housekeeper came to take Mum's coat and briefcase, clucking in Italian about something. We all said hello to our relatives, and the teasing commenced between Dad and Kate:  
  
"So, Katie-"  
  
"Oh, just Kate, please, Uncle Ronnie," Kate said, teasing him back.  
  
"Right, Katie, sorry about that. So how's that boyfriend of yours, er…what's his name? Michael?"  
  
Kate blushed a bit. "His name is Matthew and he is not my boyfriend. Nor will he ever be."  
  
Dad rolled his eyes at his goddaughter. "Oh, right, we all know how long that will last. Next thing you know, they're off snogging in a broom closet somewhere!"  
  
"Right, just like you in school, right, Uncle Ron? Always the ladies man, I'm sure. No…no wait…I remember that story. Aunt Hermione's the only woman who wasn't disgusted by you…"  
  
"Oh, no," Mum said, coming to stand next to Kate in her defense. "I was disgusted by him. I only married him, Kate, because your father was already taken." Mum said hello to Uncle Charlie and Aunt Loren then, as the housekeeper (who was later introduced to me as Christiana) brought in a tray of drinks for us, and the house elves took our bags. Mum seemed very reluctant to letting them do so; she always had some inexplicable love for house elves. As the adults and older cousins talked about things, James and I went off in search of my room, where James would no-doubt be staying as well.  
  
Somehow, though, we happened into the library atrium. Mum's "sanctum sanctorum", as Dad jokingly called it, was two stories high, where it was topped off with a stained-glass dome for a roof. There were long windows draped in intricate tapestries and books lining every shelf; the soft Persian rug beneath my feet accented the leather furniture. Maps were lying on mahogany tables; globes and reference books on stands dotted the room here and there.  
  
"Whoa…" James said as he stared around the room in wonder.  
  
"Yeah…" I said. I walked dazedly to the other side of the room, as James ran up the spiral staircase to slide back and forth on the ladders on the second floor. I was struck by one particular patch of wall, rather, one particular section of shelving, for a reason that I can't explain to this day. I saw a book by Charlotte Bronte on this shelf, and intrigue struck me to find out what all the fuss was about. I took it off the shelf and began to read the first page. Boring. As I went to place it back, I saw that there was a hole in the wall behind this book's place. Interesting. I put the book on a table nearby, and returned to the shelf, to find that the book was once again in it's place, and no longer on the table where I had just placed it. I pushed the book further into the shelf, to see if it would fall into the opening, but something interesting happened when it did.  
  
The shelf swung open.  
  
My parents were definitely up to something. How many kids' parents have secret passageways in the library? If I were going to see what was going on with my Mum and Dad, though, I would have to investigate first hand. I hesitantly stepped inside, but the shelf stayed open behind me. Fine. The floor was rather soggy, and my feet were prone to stepping in puddles that had collected on the uneven stone floor. Water dripped from the ceiling as the room slowly wound down and the light dissipated. Using the inherited Granger-Weasley prowess, I lit my wand and shone it ahead, trying to see my path. I was a little too late on the wand-lighting, because I didn't realize that there was a set of stairs in front of me, and fell down quite a ways. I sat up, shaking my head, and rubbing a spot on the back of it, which promised to be a very large bump by morning. I shone my wand on the floor in front of me, and saw that there were no more steps.  
  
I walked forward, through a doorway, and down a few more steps where I was greeted with a rather wicked smell. Whatever Mum and Dad were hiding down here, it wasn't going to be pretty.  
  
I heard a growl from behind me, and felt something moving in the shadows. I thrust my wand out, trying to spread the light around the room while trying to quell the shaking that had begun out of fear. I was spinning around now, trying to catch sight of the thing that was in here. Finally, my wand struck something.  
  
It was black and scaly, with a long tale, long snout, and short legs. It was a rather pudgy animal, although it looked as if the weight it carried didn't slow him down at all. It opened its mouth, showing off a huge set of teeth as fire began careening from its mouth. Surely, this must have been something Dad had come up with at work or something. I saw that it was blocking a doorway. Whatever Mum and Dad were hiding, it was inside that room.  
  
As the creature advanced, I used the first spell that came to my mind.  
  
"Erm…erm…Wingardium Leviosa!" I shouted, and the creature was soon feet off the ground as I ran below it, flung the door open, and then threw myself on it to keep the monster out. I heard a thud as it landed, roaring terribly loud, and trudging away.  
  
I turned, then, to see what was in the room that my parents were so preciously guarding. Mirrors. It was a room filled with mirrors of all shapes and sizes. What was the big fuss about then? I looked at them, but instead of seeing Landon Weasley, I saw our house. Every room in our house had a mirror of its' own, almost like a security camera that they showed on Muggle television. I saw James running through a corridor and into the living room where Mum, Dad, the Potters, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Loren, Kate and Daniel were sitting and laughing about…well, something (there was always laughing in our house).  
  
He was out of breath, but he stopped and everyone turned to look at him. I tapped the mirror with my wand, hoping that that would allow me to hear. Sure enough, it did.  
  
"Uncle R-Ron…Aunt…Mione…Landon…dis-disappeared…in the…the library," he was sputtering.  
  
"What?" Dad asked.  
  
"James, calm down and tell us what the matter is," Aunt Loren said soothingly.  
  
James tried to catch his breath, before straightening up and saying, "Landon disappeared in the library into a secret passageway or…or something! I wasn't watching; I was playing around on the ladders, and in any normal circumstance, I would have gone too, but something was growling!"  
  
Mum and Dad stood up.  
  
"Did you know that we have a secret passage in the library?" Mum was asking Dad.  
  
"No, I didn't put one there. Did you?" he asked her.  
  
"Certainly not in the library!" she sputtered. "Harry, did you?"  
  
"I never go in your library for fear that you'll kill me for messing it up," Uncle Harry said, standing up as well. Uncle Charlie followed suit as the four of them walked through the room. My aunts followed, as well as Kate, Daniel and James. I followed them through the mirrors and watched as they arrived in the library (which had three mirrors to itself in addition to the secret passage mirrors) just as the shelf was swinging shut. The four of them ran to get there before it did, and Mum, being the skinniest, managed to squeeze through before it was shut.  
  
I couldn't see her inside the passageway; it was too dark with the shelf closed. Dad, Uncle Harry, and Uncle Charlie were feeling all around the shelf, trying to find someway to get it. I tapped the mirror that they were in with my wand, and was able to hear what was going on.  
  
"Ron! Ron, can you hear me?" Mum was calling to Dad.  
  
"What can you see, Hermione?" he called back to her.  
  
"I can't see a blasted thing. It's as dark as night in here!" she called back.  
  
Dad stepped back from the shelf and stared at it with a mixture of fury, frustration and skepticism. "Are you a witch or not?!" he called back. "Light your bloody wand!"  
  
Mum mumbled something then, and Dad had to call to her to repeat it. "I can't see it; I've dropped it." Dad just shook his head, and went back to trying to find out how to open the shelf. Mum screaming interrupted him.  
  
"Hermione! What's wrong?" He called back urgently.  
  
"There's-something-in-here!" she called back to him.  
  
"All right, we're trying to get you out of there!" he called back to her. His face did look alarmed. "Can you tell what it is?"  
  
"I thought we'd covered this! I can't see a thing!" came from behind the wall.  
  
Uncle Charlie stepped back from the wall, and Uncle Harry and Dad followed suit. Uncle Harry took his wand out, and tried using magic to open the wall. Uncle Charlie didn't have his wand with him, so he borrowed his daughter's. Dad was trying magic as well, but it wasn't working.  
  
Mum screamed again.  
  
"What? What?" Dad called, anxiously.  
  
"Ron, it just brushed up against my leg! Get me out of here!"  
  
"We're trying!" he called back to her. He was muttering under his breath, something that sounded along the lines of 'we've got to get her out of there'.  
  
Uncle Charlie stepped up. "Hermione, what did it feel like? What's its skin like?"  
  
"Erm…" Mum stuttered. "It's kind of scaly…and slimy…ouch! The little bugger bit me! Oh…and now it's growling…Charlie this thing is going to eat me alive!"  
  
Finally, Uncle Harry stumbled upon the book, and the shelf began to swing open, shedding light into the room. Mum grabbed her wand, and cast a spell at it, only to find that it was impermeable to attack spells. That made sense, since levitation was a practical magic spell. Dad and my uncles rushed in, brandishing their wands as well. Dad and Uncle Charlie stepped forward, knowing what to do since they worked with animals for a living. They seemed almost pained to have to kill it. Meanwhile, Uncle Harry was looking at Mum's bleeding leg. A simple spell healed it, and she was able to walk with only a little limp. They lit their wands and walked further inside.  
  
I didn't bother following their progress; it was only the same way that I had come. I looked through the other mirrors, and saw Rachel and Emily playing in the playroom with Uncle Fred's youngest set of twins- Eleanor and Timothy; David, Christopher and Jonathan (Uncle Fred's older set of twins), and Evie were in a room upstairs. Dave, Chris, Tim, John, and Eleanor were prodding something with their wands, and Evie was looking on disgustedly, reading a magazine called "TeenWitch". In one of the upstairs towers were a man and a woman peering over something intently. I couldn't see their faces at the angle that they were sitting at. The only thing that I could tell was that the woman who was sitting had long blonde hair and pale skin; the man, who was leaning over her shoulder, had graying semi- long hair and was very thin. I tapped my wand on that mirror, to hear what they were saying.  
  
"But can ve be sure?" the woman was asking in a distinct French accent. I knew that voice beyond a shadow of a doubt. It was Professor Delacour.  
  
"Hermione doesn't think so," said the man whom I recognized then to be Uncle Sirius, "but otherwise, Ron and Harry do. You're just going to have to get more information, Fleur. Hermione will be hard to convince. You know how stubborn she can be."  
  
Professor Delacour laughed. "Yez, yez. I zink zat zee Death Eatairs suspect."  
  
"Well, if they do, than you're just going to have to make sure that they don't, aren't you?" Uncle Sirius was saying to her.  
  
"I shall try," she said. "But, I zink-"  
  
The door opened behind me, and I tapped my wand on the mirror once more to make the sound diminish. Time for the innocent little boy routine.  
  
I ran to the door, to find everyone. Mum bent down to make sure that I was all right. Of course I was, minus the bump on the head and the severe headache that had been intensifying since my fall down the steps. I pretended that I didn't remember how I managed to get into the shelf, or what had happened, only that that thing had chased me into the room. Dad, Uncle Harry and Uncle Charlie exchanged glances, letting me know that they didn't believe my story for an instant. Mum, too, looked skeptical as we walked out.  
  
  
  
I had to tell James about what I saw later that night. After Christiana had given me some ice for my splitting headache (I think she was a squib and didn't know how to mix potions or do spells), I walked upstairs to what I thought was John and Chris's room to try to find James. I knocked on the door, and opened it, but found Kate sitting on the window seat reading a book.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Kate," I said. "I thought that this was John and Chris's room.  
  
"That's all right, Landon," she smiled at me. I was about to leave when she asked, "Erm…something on your mind?"  
  
"N-No…what makes you think that?" I said to her.  
  
She smiled knowingly, like the ones that Mum and Aunt Loren would exchange every now and then when talking to Dad and Uncle Charlie. I hated that smile. "All right," she told me.  
  
"I mean," I continued, "If I had something on my mind, not like I do or anything, I would tell you. I hate keeping secrets, but if I had any secrets to keep, that is, you know, important secrets, I certainly wouldn't tell them."  
  
She nodded. "All right, Landon." She went back to her book.  
  
"And, if you really wanted to know my secrets or if something were on my mind, I think that you shouldn't pry into what other people are thinking. Not like I'm thinking, or anything."  
  
She nodded again. "All right, Landon."  
  
"See, Kate," I said, flopping down on the bed. "I know this guy. Let's just call him…Bob. Bob had been friends with this guy…Jim for a long time. And Jim is a friend with this girl lately; let's just call her…Christy. But, Christy and Bob don't like each other. Christy and Jim, on the other hand, are spending a whole lot of time together, lately, and are kind of pushing Bob to the side."  
  
"Let me guess," Kate said, turning to face me, "Bob feels a little left out now, doesn't he?"  
  
"Yes, he does," I said. "And, he doesn't want to hang around with them to make himself feel more included because I- erm, I mean, he hates Christy."  
  
Kate suppressed a grin, and said, "Maybe…erm, Bob should tell Jim how he feels? And maybe, Bob should try to put up with Christy, maybe even try to like her? It sounds like Jim really likes this girl, and maybe…maybe Bob is jealous that this girl is taking his best friend away?"  
  
"What? Jealous? Of course not! Bob would never get jealous of Ja-Jim!" I said.  
  
She nodded. "All right, Landon."  
  
"And…and even if I was jealous of James, it wouldn't be because of Charlotte! What do I care if he's friends with her? I hate her, anyway, so what's the point? Why would I be jealous of someone I hate?"  
  
"Oh, I see," she said. "It sounds like you're not jealous of James, but you're jealous of Charlotte. Am I right?"  
  
Why did she have to be so intuitive?  
  
"Wh-erm,-we-but- oh, what do you know, anyway? You're just…you were just making me tell you! I didn't want to tell you, but no! You just had to know didn't you! Well, that's the last time that I tell you anything!" I sputtered.  
  
She grinned, nodded, and went back to her book, saying, "All right, Landon."  
  
"Girls!" I muttered furiously, storming from the room.  
  
She was right and I knew it. 


	6. Chapter Five

Plop. 

A glob of white frosting fell from my fork and onto my black dinner jacket, leaving a long white smear in its' wake. 

"Don't worry about it," said a voice from behind me. I turned around, and Kate came to sit next to me. "Just take it off and stick it under the table when no one's watching. Your mum and dad won't find it until we're back at school." 

I laughed, and quickly slipped it off as James laughed, too, his mouth filled with more frosting than I had previously thought humanly possible. 

"Still mad at me, mate?" Kate asked, taking a dainty bite of her own cake. 

I shook my head, not really wanting to elaborate, or for James to know the nature of our fight. I would hex the Queen before I told James that I was jealous of…well, you know. Apparently, Kate picked up on my hesitance, and dropped the subject. Or maybe she was just really hungry (another Weasley trait).

I looked around the room, and thought about how wonderful of a job all of my aunts and uncles did. They had each been in charge of something different, and I was very glad that Aunt Angelina, the editor of the _Enchanting Entertainment_ magazine, had been in charge of hiring the band. The whole purpose of the night was to try to recreate my grandparents' wedding reception, right down to the original guest list, and I knew that Aunt Gina worked hard to find a good swing band for the party.

The ballroom in our new house had been done to match the pictures of the wedding fifty years ago, and actually matched rather well. Most of the original guests were in attendance the second shot around, as well as a lot of the friends that were made by the original Weasley family over the years. 

People were swirling around the dance floor, even Emily (who had been sulking about wearing a dress until now) and Rachel (who loved dresses) were spinning around and around in the middle of the floor, causing couples to trip over the little girls every now and then. 

James decided to take this moment to be the ladies' man, and cut in on his parents who were dancing, but tapping Uncle Harry on the shoulder, and bowing politely to Aunt Ginny. She laughed and curtsied, and began to dance with James. 

Mum saw the "cuteness" of it all, and came over to me, holding out her hands and saying, "What do you say, Landon? Care to take a spin around the dance floor?" 

Why not?

Because I couldn't dance. 

I took Mum's hands, and attempted to dance, apologizing every…oh, every three seconds, I'd say, for stepping on her feet. She had to lead, of course, because dancing wasn't really one of my strong points. 

After Mum winced for about the billionth time, someone tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Let a real man show you how it's done, son." Mum and I laughed, and Dad began to dance with her. He was frighteningly good, as well. I suppose that Mum must have forced him to learn before their wedding or something, not wanting to be made a fool of thanks to a horrible partner. 

James was still dancing with Aunt Ginny. Surprisingly…he was good, too! I could just picture him in a couple of years with clumps of girls following him around at Yule Balls. I suppose it pays when your best friend is a chick magnet. 

Someone tapped me on the shoulder (people were doing that a lot tonight) and Kate was standing next to me. 

"Don't know how to dance, eh?" she said knowingly.

_Oh, no! I'm Landon Weasley, Lord of the Dance!_

I shook my head.

"Come on," she said, taking my hands, "I'll show you." She led me (rather, forced me) onto the dance floor, put my hand on her waist, and held my other hand. "Step, two, three; step, two, three; step, two, th-_ouch!_" 

"Sorry."

"No, no; it's all right," she says with a wince on her face. Right. I think that she was almost relieved when the song was over and I took my hands away (James charmingly dipped his mother back on the final chord- excuse me whilst I blow chunks…). 

Kate seemed eager not to dance with me this time, and I don't blame her. I thanked her for the dance (I _did_ have manners) and walked to get something to drink. James came and joined me, and we both sat down. I thought that this might have been a good opportunity to tell him about what I saw, and…you know, discuss things. He was talking about Charlotte though. I passed the time while I was supposed to be listening to "Charlotte _this_" and "Charlotte _that_" by watching all of my relatives on the dance floor. 

Uncle Harry seemed quite pleased that Evie had finally consented to dance with her father. It really was rather uncanny how much the two looked alike; Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's children were the only three Weasleys without red hair. Evie's was cropped short, to just below her chin, and was dreadfully messy, just like Uncle Harry's. Although, not in a bad way. It rather worked in her favor, because the look that she had was one of those that Muggle and Magical girls alike emulated. They both had the same brilliant green eyes, and the same smile. Kind of funny, if you ask me. James looked almost exactly like Uncle Harry, as well, minus the scar. And, I'm told, that Uncle Harry looks exactly like his father did.

I don't think that I looked too much like Dad. Of course, I had the trademark red hair, and blue eyes like Dad. I wasn't quite as tall as he was when my age, but I'm still taller than James. Mum says that I have the same smile as Dad. It's kind of lopsided, I think, but Mum says that she adores it every time that Dad and I are sitting next to each other and end up laughing; for some odd reason, she thinks that we look alike when we smile. I don't think so, because my eyes don't crinkle up in the corners, like Dad's do. And I don't have as many freckles. 

"Don't you think so, Landon?"

"Uh-huh."

" And I think that your mum looks like a boarhound, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yep…._what?!_" 

"Way to listen, man," James said, clapping me on the shoulder. "And I didn't mean that about your mum, by the way."

"You'd better not have," I said in a rather threatening way, causing James to laugh. I wonder what he was thinking…_Yeah, like you could beat me up… _

We sat in silence for a little while, before James said, "Well, this is boring…"

"Yep."

"Yep."

"Hey," I said, "I've _got _to tell you something! Come on, let's get out of here."

"All right," he replied, as eager to leave as I was. 

We opened the door to get out of the ballroom, making a huge mistake. In opening the door, we allowed our golden retriever, Beatrice (I don't understand the name, either. I think it was one of those Mum/Dad/Uncle Harry inside jokes), to come bounding in the room, knocking over caterers, making people jump out of the way, as she ran happily over to where Mum and Dad were dancing. She promptly jumped on them, causing them to fall to the floor under the force of it, as she ecstatically licked their faces. 

Emily giggled as Dad pushed the dog off and the two of them stood up, wiping dog slobber off of their faces with napkins that caterers rushed to bring them. Emily clapped her hands to her knees, calling "Beatty! Beatty!" (She couldn't say 'Beatrice' without spitting). The dog bounded over to Emily, who petted her joyfully, and hugged her. Adults found this to be adorable, and sounds of _"Aw…"_ could be heard throughout the room. 

Sure, she was cute if you didn't have to live in the same house as her. 

James and I were about to make a clean getaway, when house elves came running in after the dog (they were having a hard time with the running bit, because they kept hitting themselves). Mum, Dad, and everyone else in the world noticed that, and they caught the two of us red-handed. 

"Landon," Dad said, unbelievably calmly (although Dad wasn't one to get upset easily, I knew how much he, and the rest of the family, wanted this night to be perfect for my grandparents), "Would you please take Beatrice back outside before she desecrates another ballroom?" 

I nodded, called for the dog, and led her out of the room. 

"James, dear," I heard Mum saying, her voice laced with worry, "would you please tell the house elves to kindly stop abusing themselves?" 

"Yes," he said, and turned to the house elves. "Erm…you'd better stop that, or Aunt Hermione's liable to have a conniption." 

The party erupted into laughter, and even Mum found it rather funny. James turned and winked at everyone (always the center of attention), and led the house elves out of the ballroom. I was waiting for him in the living room, and when he came in, he was practically doubled over in laughter. 

"What's so funny?" I asked him. 

He was shaking so hard that he could barely stand, let alone answer.  James' laughter, for some reason, had always been contagious, and I soon found myself laughing hysterically as well, for no reason other than…well, because he was. 

We were just calming down when a wizard came walking through the living room, carrying a huge book that resembled something that Mum would have in her library. I recognized him; his name was Draco Malfoy. I had no clue why he was at our house. He had only been released from Azkaban a year ago, why on earth would he be in the house of two once-Aurors while the Minister of Magic was just a yell away? A tall witch with long blond hair came in as well, and I knew her instantly as Professor Delacour. 

"Do you know the way?" Malfoy asked her quietly. She nodded, and he followed her. 

*

"Landon, I don't get it," James was saying to me as he ran with me to the library. "What's going on? Why are we running? Answer me!" He never could stand not knowing anything. 

I ran into the library, and shoved the heavy wooden door shut after James jogged in behind me. I ran around the shelves and climbed ladders, finding the books that I needed, before darting over to the _B _section and looking for _Wuthering Heights_, or anything else by Charlotte Bronte. I shoved _Wuthering Heights_ back into the shelf and nothing happen. Then I grabbed _Shirley; Jane Eyre; Villette_ and _The Professor_, trying to get back into the mirror room. Nothing was happening. I then tried all of the other Bronte sisters' work, but nothing was happening. 

"Bugger!" I swore. James looked at me in a mixture of surprise and admiration. I never swore. I turned to him. "James," I said, "we've got to talk."

*

James and I sat in the common room, skipping our classes for the day. When I wanted to explain everything to him at home, but couldn't for Malfoy and Professor Delacour walked into the library, and proceeded to tell us that they would tell our parents that we were snooping if we didn't go back to the party. James was ready with a smart remark, but I kicked his leg. They knew what our parents knew, I surmised, and after the episode on Halloween, our parents would be livid.

"So wait," James said, a look of that of a confused vulture on his face (at least I _think_ a confused vulture- his eyes were all crinkly, his brow was furrowed and wrinkly, his jaw was all locked up and his head was cocked to one side, but his eyes were definitely the thing that made me think _hey, my friend looks like a vulture_), "Who's double crossing who?" 

"Whom."

"What?" 

"Who is double crossing whom, and why would you ask that? Isn't it obvious?" I said. 

"No, not really," he said, scratching his head and easing up on the vulture-ality. 

"It all makes sense," I said, adjusting my position so I was facing him a bit more, and using my hands to gesture (something that both of my parents did when they were excited- I wonder if all children are so closely related outwardly to their parents? That could make an interesting study indeed) as I said, "Draco Malfoy, you know that guy with the book at my house? Well, he used to be a Death Eater, I think that our parents were the ones who put him in Azkaban in the first place; they've always hated each other. He got out by bribing the court and saying that he was under the Imperius Curse when he did all of those things, and Mum had a big set-to with the Ministry about it, but anyway, he used to be a Death Eater. Remember on Halloween when Professor Delacour was off in the potions room talking to the mouse guy?" 

"_Mouse guy_?" ****

"He looked like a mouse to me, ok? You looked like a vulture for a second, so it is definitely possible that someone can look like a mouse. _Now let me finish my story_!" In the midst of all of this, James still managed to laugh, but I had to punch him and tell him, while laughing, mind you, that this was serious and we had to concentrate. 

I readjusted my position on the couch to better face him, and began speaking over his laughter and motioning with my hands to better get my point across. "So, Professor Delacour was talking to Mighty Mouse, who, at least I think, is Peter Pettigrew."

"The guy with the Marauder's Map?" James asked, the name of Pettigrew snapping him from his laughing fit. 

"Exactly. I looked him up in _The Rise and Fall of the Second Dark Age; _he's also in tons of other books that Mum had in her library, including this one," I said, ducking to pull a heavy book from my rucksack. It was called _Double Jeopardy: Key Cases in the Fall of the Second Dark Age- Commentaries by Sirius Black and Hermione Granger-Weasley. _James looked at me quizzically still. 

"What's so important about it?" he asked me. I flipped open to the case regarding Uncle Sirius's official declaration of innocence, and the incrimination of Peter Pettigrew. 

"Look at this," I said. "Peter was the man who betrayed your grandparents to Lord Voldemort [we children had always been raised to say his proper name]. Uncle Sirius got framed for it; it's a really long story. But they finally caught up with old Peter in a Muggle pub, and the entire story came out. This was after the war, of course, and he pleaded innocence. After that didn't work, he tried for the insanity plea, and then as a last resort, he claimed that he had been under the Imperius Curse. Mum was fighting against him, but the courts sided with him, since there was no real evidence that he had or hadn't been under the curse. After what happened with Uncle Sirius, they didn't want to put another innocent man into Azkaban, so they let him go free. He disappeared again, and after he was long gone, it came out that he had been working for Voldemort the entire time. You know, before our parents killed him."

"What does this have to do with anything?" James asked, nodding dumbly along with everything that I had been saying. Honestly, had the boy no brain at all? 

"It means that-"

Bugger. The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and Mum climbed in, eyeing us suspiciously. 

"You two weren't in classes today," she said. It wasn't a question. "Why?" 

James and I looked at each other, and I said, "Well…erm…we wanted to finish up the homework that we missed before starting anything new." I elbowed James, and he nodded his head in consent. 

Mum was still looking at us apprehensively, but she said, "All right…" Her eyes darted to where the book _Double Jeopardy_ lay. She crossed and picked it up. "Where did you get this?" She asked. "This isn't in the Hogwarts library, I don't think."

"I brought it from your library at home for a bit of light reading," I said. Mum raised her eyebrow at me, but then must have thought about something from her school days and her reading fetish.  

"It's very good, if I do say so myself," she said, setting the book back down on the coffee table. "You should enjoy it; just send it back home with Hermes or give it back to me. Make sure that you get all of your homework done, and there will be hell to pay if you're not in classes tomorrow," she said with a small wink at us. She turned to leave, but thought better of it. She turned around and took a seat in one of the armchairs. "Actually, Landon," she said, leaning forward on her knees a bit, "I've been meaning to talk to you." 

James looked rather uncomfortable, and said, "I'll be back later, then."

"Oh, no, James," Mum said. "You don't have to go. Actually, I'd rather like you to hear this."

James sat back down on the couch, and Mum continued.

"Landon, your father and I have been doing some thinking. We…we were wondering what you might think of another addition to the family?" she asked. I figured that this was one of those things that were already decided.

"You're having a baby?" James asked. 

Mum chuckled a bit. "Oh, no," she said. Before she could explain further, James opened his mouth again.

"So, what, are you getting another dog or something?" he asked stupidly. 

Mum laughed at that. "No, James, we're _not_ getting another dog." He was silent before opening his mouth again. Mum cut him off. "We're not getting any form of animal that may serve as a pet," she said. He closed his mouth immediately, showing me that that was exactly what he was going to ask. 

I ignored everything that James had said and went back to Mum's original question. "What kind of…_addition…_are you talking about?" I asked her. 

"Well, James was almost right. I'm not _having_ a baby, but your Dad and I have decided to adopt a little boy from an orphanage in Scotland," she said. "He's one and a half."

Why were they adopting a baby? Why didn't they just…_ew **ew** **EW**!!! I am _not_ thinking about my parents' sex lives!!! _

"What's his name?" James asked. 

Mum cleared her throat. "Actually, he doesn't have one. They…they don't name them in the orphanage. It's quite horrible. They leave them in cribs all day, and don't speak to them, or hold them, or…never mind." She was getting very worked up about this, and I could tell that she didn't want to explode in front of us. "Uncle Ron and I are going to wait until we see him to name him." 

"Erm…Mum?" I asked.

"Yes, Landon?"

"Why are you and Dad adopting a baby?" I was dying to know the answer. 

Mum smiled sadly. "Your father and I…we've been privileged enough to give you kids a life that many children could only hope of, Landon. We want to make a difference in at least someone's life by making him as happy as he deserves to be. In this case, we're going to give a little boy a family who loves him." Her eyes were strangely cloudy. 

"That's not the only reason, though," she continued. "No, the orphanage contacted the British Ministry saying that one of their little boys, your brother, was doing strange things, almost magical thing. There's a member of the British Ministry who is married to a witch, and he was smart enough to recognize what was going on. He notified the Ministry of Magic, and I was one of the first people to get wind of it. Your father and I had been tinkering with the idea of another baby, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity for us." 

Silence. 

"That's pretty cool, Aunt Mione," James said. 

Mum smiled. "I'm glad that you think so, James. What do you think, Landon?" 

Let's hope a little brother is better than a little sister…

Actually, it wouldn't be all that bad, I'm sure. I could be a positive male influence in this kid's life. I would teach him how to study, how to perform spells and charms, and how to play chess. I could teach him everything that he needed to know, since they didn't teach the kids anything in that ruddy orphanage. I could teach him how to play Quidditch (that's a laugh- Emily and Dad would probably be the ones to do that), and even how to avoid Mum and Dad when they were mad. 

I smiled at Mum, in the way that reminded her of Dad (although I _still_ don't see it), and said, "Sounds great, Mum! When do I get to meet the kid?" 

Mum smiled, and said, "Tomorrow." 

Why was it that my parents had this…this _thing_ with waiting until the last minute to tell me things? 

"Well, I'm off," Mum said, standing up. "Emily has a Little League game. First of the season! Did I tell you that she made the travel team that she wanted to? Youngest Seeker in the league. She's pestering Dad and I to let her be on England's team, you know, the world-class team. They offered her position as Seeker, but your father and I don't want her to be away from home so early. Not until she's at least in her third year, we've decided. It's enough to travel back and forth to England for all of her games, but she doesn't know Italian! We couldn't put her on an Italian team; you know Em, she never would have lasted. Anyway, I'm off, you two. Go to dinner." 

Not a question once more, and the two of us got up and walked to the Great Hall. Once more, we would have to finish our conversation later. I wanted to go to the library after dinner, but it was closed on Wednesday nights. Charlotte seemed a bit put out that James and I had been ignoring her since we got back, but we didn't pay attention to it. We were speaking in hushed whispers throughout dinner, not really paying attention to anything at that. One thing I did notice, however, was that there were two empty seats at the staff table. Mum's seat was vacant, which I knew it would be, but so was the Headmaster's. I wondered where he was, but then decided not to worry about it. He had always been a somewhat secretive man, and I had learned not to question. 

*

At ten o'clock that night, I was still rifling through my books, trying to find as much information on Peter Pettigrew as I could. I was determined that somehow he was a link to everything. My theory, in entirety, was summed up on a roll of parchment that was sitting in front of me:

Key People

_Mum (Hermione Granger-Weasley)_- working for the Ministry, undercover at Hogwarts? Not making sense, she's been teaching here for years and has been retired as an Auror for a while, too. 

_Dad (Ron Weasley)- _working with the Ministry on the same case as Mum? 

_Uncle Harry Potter_- working with the Ministry on the same case as Mum and Dad?

_Uncle Sirius Black_- Case Director?

_Peter Pettigrew_- Bad guy? After evading Azkaban he rejoined Death Eaters and is now serving as the Dark Lord's (albeit, he's dead) liaison?

_Professor Delacour- _Working on the same case as everyone else? Either double-crossing them, or a double agent? Or, she's double-crossing the Death Eaters?

_Draco Malfoy-???_

Missing Pieces

_What the hell is this case anyway? All I know is that something is wrong, and all of those people have something to do with it. _

Other Theories

_1. __Peter Pettigrew looks like a Mouse_

_2. __Mum is somehow protecting the school. Perhaps Prof. D. was sent here to spy and find a right time for the D.E.'s to attack. Note: why would they want to attack?_

All right, so it wasn't much, but at least it was something. James had gone to bed a long time ago, tired of talking about it. I don't think that he found anything as fascinating as I did, but for some reason, my curiosity was just _dying_ to know what was going on. Something was going on, I just knew it was, and I was going to find out what it was. 


	7. Chapter Six

James wanted nothing to do with my investigation. He said that it was a load of dragon dung, I was being paranoid, and that none of this 'dangerous' information was related to each other in any way, shape, or form. He was just being cynical and no fun if you ask me. Also, I think that he might have been jealous that he wasn't the one with the crazy and amazingly brilliant idea for once. That would show him. 

He was also spending much more time with Charlotte (if that was at all possible), who was making it a daily habit of scowling at me, snubbing me, and being an all around snobby, wet, horrible, bloody annoying slack alice. 'Oh, look, professor, _I _got the answer to the question before _Weasley_ did! Fancy that!'  

Could life get worse?

Oh, _yes! _That's _right,_ I still have Christmas holidays to look forward to. Even then, I probably won't get any attention, what with the new kid and all. I hope he's not smart. I'll still be the smart one, then. Sometimes I marvel at just how shallow I can be. Like right then, for instance. I was eating lunch in the Great Hall, watching James chatting up Charlotte again, and I was thinking about how much I wanted to punch Charlotte. _Who cares_ if she's a girl; she still needs a good punching every now and then. Maybe I could pay Jessie or Fiona to give her a good duffing up for me. 

I glared at them and went back to reading _Doubly Jeopardy_ while lazily eating my chicken sandwich (Dad had this habit of turning everything, and I mean _everything_ into a sandwich, and I just happened to pick up on it). I still hadn't actually figured out what 'double jeopardy' was, so I wasn't finding the book terribly interesting right now. Perhaps I would ask Mum. She knew the answer to everything. 

I picked up my book and walked to the staff table, ignoring the comments of 'Where's he going?' and 'Search me' from James and Charlotte. I plopped my book down on the table, in front of Mum who was talking with Professor Lewis (the Muggle Studies teacher), causing the entire table to look at me. 

"What's 'double jeopardy' mean?" I asked Mum, referring to the book. 

The staff table chuckled a bit, as did Mum. Maybe all first-years were supposed to know this? Maybe they found my thirst for knowledge rather amusing? Maybe I reminded them of Mum, or maybe they were surprised that I was reading advanced material? Teachers can be incredibly dense when they want to be. 

"Come around here," Mum said, nodding her head to behind where she was sitting. I crossed behind her and sat in Dad's seat as she picked up the book and began flipping through it. "You see, Landon, 'double jeopardy' is a concept that the Death Eaters used to thrive off of. It says that you can't be tried, and in turn, committed, for the same crime twice."

"So, if I were to murder Charlotte- not that I _would_ or anything- and then I murdered James, I couldn't be committed?" 

"Not exactly," Mum said. "If you'd been accused murdered Charlotte- and you'd better not even think about it- and once you'd gotten out of Azkaban and your father and I allowed you out of the house, then you could kill Charlotte without being in any danger."

I was confused. "But if she was dead in the first place, how could I kill her again?" 

Mum smiled, and I was suddenly aware that all of the teachers were looking at us, rather entertained by this. "Well," she said, "what case do you know of in which that very thing happened?" 

I thought for a minute. Nothing was coming to me, so I shook my head. 

Mum put her fork down. "Oh, come now, I know that you know. Your father and I have taught you better than that. Try harder." 

I thought some more, and then it came to me. "Uncle Sirius!" I said. "Everyone thought that he killed Peter Pettigrew, but he didn't; so when he came back, he could have killed Peter and not be tried for it…right?" 

"Makings of a wonderful Auror, son," she said. "Can you tell me why Uncle Sirius decided not to kill him? It's much simpler than you might think."

And the light bulb goes on yet again. "Well, if he turned Pettigrew into the Ministry, then his name would be cleared, and his record would be erased. He also wouldn't have had to live with a murder on his shoulders, and if Pettigrew was so closely related to Voldemort, then he could lead the Ministry to him, even if it required Veritasserum."

Mum smiled. "Good. The Death Eaters thrived on 'double jeopardy' as well as retribution, mainly. Apart from killing Muggles and Muggle-borns. What they didn't realize was that they would, in turn, be killing out the wizarding world."

"That's why you named the book 'double jeopardy'," I surmised.

She nodded. "Why this sudden interest in law, Landon?" 

"Just…curious," I said with a shrug and grin. 

"Landon," Mum said harshly, "if I find out that this is anything about what you three saw on Halloween, I will make sure that-"

"It's not," I quickly lied. "Promise." 

I almost felt bad about abusing Mum's trust like that. Almost. I was about to ask another question, when I saw Dad standing at the stairs, waiting for something with a bag other than his briefcase slung over his shoulder. A small little boy, just barely able to walk, was cautiously stepping down the steps to the Great Hall. Dad grew impatient, and swooped his arm down, catching the little boy just under the arms and hoisting him up into his arms. The little boy squealed in delight, causing the sound of '_Aw' _to echo throughout the Great Hall, coming mostly from the girls. 

"The ladies like you, man!" Dad said, poking his stomach and making him giggle. "Blow 'em a kiss." The boy seemed to get embarrassed when he realized that so many people were looking at him, so he buried his head in Dad's shoulder. "Come on," Dad said. "No? All right." 

The little boy sat up and smacked his hand to his lips before throwing his arm out into the air and making a _'mwahh!' _noise. He then proceeded to bury his head in Dad's shoulder once more. Great, girls already liked him better than me. 

Dad loved kids (for some odd reason). That was one similarity that I didn't share with him. Why, when Emily was little, I hated to be around her. She smelled. This little boy didn't look to bad, though. He had dark hair, like Mum's, that was kind of moppy, but adorable in it's own right. He was wearing a white shirt and denim overalls. The most interesting thing about him was his eyes. They were the bluest blue that one could ever see. They were big and were exploring everything with an intense curiosity (AN: think little Danny at the end of _Pearl Harbor_). I guess this was my brother, then. 

Dad walked up to the staff table as the Great Hall got back to normal, and handed the little boy to Mum as he squealed happily. I guess he already recognized her. Mum cooed to him, making him laugh. I wonder if people realize how stupid they look while playing with babies. The teachers were all looking on now, finding how curious it was that he bore a striking resemblance to Mum and Dad, each in their own right. 

"Ron," Mum said, "Not that I mind, but why did you bring him here?" 

Dad sighed. "Nanny Maureen cancelled on us. Please don't freak out."

"She cancelled? We had a contractual agreement; she can't just cancel! It's one day a week! Doesn't she realize the situation that she's-"

"Hermione, breathe," Dad commanded, making Mum glare at him, before her face split into a grin. He was rubbing her arms in that very 'Mum and Dad' sort of way. "It's no big deal; we can just find someone else. We can just drop him off at The Burrow, or at your parents' until we find a Nanny for Wednesdays. All right?" 

Mum nodded as she set the squirming baby down on the ground, letting him crawl around a bit, although he was still under their very watchful eyes. 

"Hi, Dad," I said. 

He turned. "Oh, hello, son. I didn't even see you there."

Inferiority complex? What inferiority complex?

I picked up my book with a sigh and walked back to my seat, nearly being run over by Evie, apparently rushing to see the baby. What was his name? I sat down next to James, fully prepared to be ignored. Surprisingly, though, just about everyone at Gryffindor table wanted to talk to me, dying to know about my brother. Honestly, what was the big deal when Emily came into school? 

Up at the staff table, I could see the little boy climbing up onto a surprised Professor Dumbledore's lap with Mum's wand in his hand. Unfortunately, Mum and Dad were talking to Evie and didn't notice, and the Headmaster dismissed him as being a 'cute little tyke'. He didn't intervene when the boy began prodding the turkey on the table with the wand, and enlarging it to the size of a small Volkswagen. The boy's giggles (and the laughter of the entire Great Hall) got the attention of my parents, and they turned around with a start. Dad reversed the Engorgement Charm, while Mum picked up the little boy, who looked severely close to tears at the sight of his creation being destroyed. 

"We are so sorry," Mum and Dad said at the same time. 

"Terribly sorry."

"Won't happen again." 

"Really, we're so, so sorry."

"I think they get the point, Mione." 

I went back to eating my sandwich, shrugging off the questions that people were bombarding me with. It occurred to me then, that I didn't even know the kid's name. Minor details, sure, but I was going to have to know what my little brother should be called. I could just see it: _Hey, Mum! 'The child' wants something to eat! _Yeah, that would go over big, I'm sure. 

We all were finishing our lunch, and began walking to our classes. Incidentally, I had Defense Against the Dark Arts. I suppose that I would be getting some answers then, assuming that the kid would be staying with Mum for the rest of the day, just like Emily and I had at that age- Mondays and Fridays with Mum, Tuesdays and Thursdays with Dad, Wednesday with a nanny or a grandmother. 

I quickly jogged to Gryffindor Tower and exchanged my books, hoping not to be late for Mum's class. True, she was my mother, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't rant on a bit for being late to class. 

I wasn't late, although I was the last to arrive. The class was gathered around Mum's desk, rather quiet. Every now and then, there would be a burst of laughter. I joined the group and saw the little boy sitting on her desk. 

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Charlotte asked him.

He tilted his head to the side with a puzzled look on his head, as if her was thinking for a second (_Aw!_ from the girls). "Dack!" He said, happily. 

_Dack?_ _My brother was named_ _Dack?_ Were my parents drunk when they named him? Who named a kid Dack?"  

"His name is Jack," Mum said, coming out of her office. "Seats please, everyone."

Jack was standing up on her desk now, toddling around playing with things that should not have been played with, all the while chortling, "Dack, Dack, Dack, Dack, Dack, Dack, Dack…" etc. He stopped abruptly, lifting his hands in the air. "Mama! Up!"  

Mum picked him up, and paced in front of the class as we passed up our homework assignment from the night before. He was squirming around, so she set him down, letting him toddle throughout the room. He was stepping carefully up the levels of our desks. I was sitting on the end of the third row. 

"Now," Mum said, "Last night, you were to read about Senesces. Who can tell me what the main attack of a Seneca is?" 

My hand went up in the air. She called on Charlotte. One thing about Mum was that she never wanted to show favoritism towards James or I. Since she was so set on not doing that, it seemed that she favored everyone else, only calling on me when no one else knew the answer. Surprisingly, that wasn't as often as you might think. It was often times a draw between Charlotte and I. Charlotte always got called in. Some might think that Mum was sexist, but it was more…child-ist…I guess. 

I was copying notes about the Seneca when Jack stopped in front of me, looking at me curiously. He abruptly pointed and turned to Mum, who was talking. 

"Mama!" he called. "Yemen!" 

Why was it that he was pointing at me and screaming out the name of a Middle Eastern country? What did they teach those kids in that orphanage? 

Mum smiled and shook her head. "Yes, sweetheart, that's Landon. Come here." He walked to her, and she picked him up.

"Why'd he call me Yemen?" I asked. 

Mum's smile broadened and she chuckled a bit. "He can't say 'Landon' yet. It's all right."

"Mum," I said, "You need to teach this kid how to talk." 

She laughed again, before turning back to the class and continuing on about the Seneca. She explained that she had a practical lesson planned for the day, but since the Nanny had canceled and she had to take care of Jack for today, it would have to wait until tomorrow when he would be at work with Dad. 

We continued with the lesson, but my thoughts drifted back to Jack. I looked at him, sitting there on Mum's desk, his curious eyes exploring everything. I had to admit, the kid was pretty cute. But something seemed almost odd about him. It was something very familiar. As if I had seen him somewhere in a book that I had read. That was probable, considering how much I read. I might have read a description of a character in a novel that was similar to Jack, or even met someone a long time ago. Perhaps in kindergarten I had a friend like him? I wondered if Mum and Dad had adopted him for another reason than what she had told me. Seeing as how it was my parents, I'm sure that that was liable. I whipped out my 'thesis' and added a little snippet about Jack. I wanted to figure this out. 

Mum dismissed the class, and we exchanged our books for Potions. Curse Snape; the man was evil. He paired me with Charlotte, rather amused at how we hated each other. The man was as old as dirt, and had something up his arse, that was for sure. For some reason, he hated Gryffindors (I'm told it dates back to James's grandfather, my Great-Uncle James), and his detestation seemed to be focused on James and me. 

"Weasley!" Charlotte hissed. "Would you concentrate, please? Your roots are an eighth of a centimeter too big!" 

"It's a bloody eighth of a centimeter!" I hissed back. 

Snape tutted. "Weasley, using profanity in class? I'm afraid that's five points from Gryffindor." 

Charlotte elbowed me…hard. 

The rest of the class we only spoke to each other when demanding that an ingredient be passed from the other end of the desk, and barely looked at each other, even when roughly passing them. I almost hoped that something flammable would explode on her. Of course, that would require fire, and she wasn't spontaneously combusting (although I wouldn't have minded that. I could use a good laugh right now). 

"Hand me the newt heartstrings." 

"Get them yourself." 

I reached over to pick up the cutting board that the heartstrings were on, and picked it up. It was rather heavy, and I only had one free hand to pick them up. I could feel the board slipping, and I reached out my other hand to steady it as Charlotte, who was staring at the directions in her book, lifted the mixture of beetle eyes and dragon bile to pour it into our potion. As I said before, Charlotte was kind of clumsy in our first few years, and her hand holding the mixture collided with the cutting board, at such a force that sent them flying. The heartstrings landed with only a clatter on the floor that could be easily cleaned up, but we had no such luck with the eye/bile compound. It flew into Luke Adamson(the almost-squib)'s potion, and exploded, scorching the poor kid's eyebrows, and sending the potion and mangled pieces of cauldron everywhere. 

"I can't believe you did that, Landon!" Charlotte screamed at me, ignoring the mess on the ceiling, floors, walls, and students.

"I did that? Why are you blaming me? You were the one who wasn't looking at what she was doing! You were the one who refused to just hand me the roots! You're the one who's just so damn clumsy, Miss 'the-roots-are-a-bloody-eighth-of-a-centimeter-too-big'! You're the one who's too stubborn to help me for just one second! You're the one who can't swallow your pride for just one second to admit that I'm right! You're the one who insists that she's perfect just to cover up some stupid insecurity! But that's _obviously_ not working, because _I _still hate you!"

My chest suddenly felt much lighter. 

"You're just jealous of me!" she shouted. "You spend so much time behind a book to realize that you've got no friends! You're the one who doesn't care about anything except being the best, even if it means sacrificing the people that are close to you! You're the one who can't handle being wrong! You're the one who always has to show off, just so you can live up to your _mother!_ You're the one who sets these stupid standards for yourself to be the best! I'm not the one who's insecure, here, Landon Weasley!" she shouted back at me. "And, if it makes you feel any better, _I hate you, too!_" 

I narrowed my eyes at her, and she narrowed hers at me, ready for another face off. James was looking back and forth between us. 

"I think," James said, cautiously, "it's time that you two back off and go to separate corners." 

"Shut up," we said in unison. 

Snape stepped in between us now. "Weasley, Bronte! Enough! Go upstairs to the storage closet and bring things to clean this lot up _now!_ Detention all next week! I will not tolerate this behavior in my class! Seventy-Five points from Gryffindor!" he dismissed the class as we walked sullenly to the floor above the dungeons that was deserted for the most part. 

There was a hallway that wound in a square that made up this floor, both sides lined with identical oak doors, none of them labeled. All we knew was that one of them was the caretaker's office, and another had supplies in it. The sounds of our feet bounced off the stone walls, leaving an eerie echo. The torches on the walls cast shadows that were even more eerie. Bronte looked a bit edgy, but I would show her.  

"You're not _scared_, are you, Bronte?" I asked her with a bit of a sneer.

"No!" she answered abruptly, her voice more high pitched than usual. "No." 

I smiled in that kind of 'I don't believe you, but I'll humour you' way. "All right." 

A high-pitched laugh echoed down the corridor, and Charlotte jumped with a gasp. "What was that?" she asked. 

Of course, it had scared me, too. I smiled at her skeptically.  

"It was only Peeves. Chill out." 

Awkward Pause…

"Which is the supply closet; do you know?" she asked me rather timidly. 

"If I knew, then we wouldn't be wandering around like two idiots, would we?" 

"I only see one idiot here, Weasley." 

"Too many comebacks. I cannot choose." 

She looked at me for a second, and I thought that she might yell at me. Surprisingly, though, she laughed. 

"You'll get yours, Weasley," she said, still laughing. Something about her laugh was kind of contagious, and even though it was directed at me, I somehow managed to laugh, too. 

"I guess that we should just…start opening doors, then?" I asked.

"Guess so." 

We randomly opened doors, finding that none of them had anything inside other than the occasional rat, spider or cockroach. I hate spiders. 

"This is ridiculous," Charlotte said after we had walked for what seemed like forever, and opened a countless number of doors. "Let's just go back." 

I nodded. Indeed, this was ridiculous. We walked back the way that we had come, and it seemed as if the door leading back to the dungeons wasn't there anymore. We walked all around the floor, completely disoriented. I had known that Hogwarts had thousands of secret passageways, floors, stairways, and such that only appeared now and then. I just wondered how Charlotte and I managed to stumble upon one of them. I also wondered how we were going to get ourselves out of it.

"This one," Charlotte said, pointing to a door. "I think this is the one that we came in from. I remember the marks on the wall."

I shrugged willing to try anything. "All right." I opened the door, and we stepped through it, only to find ourselves in a long, dark corridor that seemed to lead nowhere. 

"I don't think that this where we want to be going…" Bronte said, warily. 

"Me neither. Come on, let's go back." 

We turned around apprehensively, but and opened the door. Before we could open it all the way, though, we heard Peeves' cackling as he slammed the door shut, locking it. I tried to turn the handle, and so did Bronte, but we were stuck. 

_"Alohomora!" _I whispered, pointing my wand at it. Nothing. The door wouldn't budge. 

"Oh, no, what are we going to do?" Charlotte moaned. It sounded to me as if there were tears behind her voice, but I tried to ignore them. 

_"HELP!!!" _I yelled at the top of my lungs, banging on the door. Charlotte helped, banging on the door until we were hoarse. I wondered if anyone would find us. We didn't even know how we got here, how was someone else going to get here?

*

Thump.

"Help."

Thump.

"Help."

Charlotte and I were both slumped on the ground against the wall. We had been screaming for a long time, and it seemed as if we'd been sitting for even longer. Both of our wands were illuminated, but we couldn't see down the corridor. We had decided (yes, we'd agreed) that it would be best to stay put. Once we didn't come back to Snape, and we weren't in dinner, or the common room, then people should start to worry.

Thump.

"Help."

"This is getting old," Charlotte said. "I hope that your mother can find us."

"Of course she can!" I told her. "Mum can do anything. That's assuming that she notices I'm gone, what with Jack around."

"Yes, I think she can," Bronte agreed, ignoring that last part. "Your little brother is pretty cute." I assumed that she was trying to pass the time, or make the best of the situation. I didn't think that she was actually interested in Jack, or that she really wanted to be nice to me. 

"Yeah, I guess so."

Pause.

"That was rather…half-hearted," she said. "Don't you like Jack?" 

"Well, yeah…I mean, he _is_ my brother and all. I kind of…have to like him, don't I?" Charlotte chuckled a bit then, and I continued. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" 

"No," she said, rather sadly. "I'm an only child. I wish I had a sister."

"Why?" I asked her. "Want Emily?" 

She laughed again. "Come on, Weasley, it can't be all _that_ bad."

"Oh, no!" I said. "Oh, no, it _is_ that bad." I laughed along with her. "I think that something's up with Jack, though." I didn't know why I was telling her this. 

"Something's up? What do you mean?" 

"Something about him…I can't put my finger on it; almost like I've seen him before. And I have this feeling that Mum wasn't telling me the whole truth about him, you know? Like on Halloween, when we walked in on Uncle Harry, Uncle Sirius, Mum and Dad in the staff room. They weren't telling us what they were doing, but it was obvious that something was wrong. It's like…Mum didn't tell me half of what really is going on with Jack, but she's acting like everything's fine." 

"Sounds like a mystery." 

"It is!" I exclaimed, jumping up and making her flinch at my abruptness. "It is! Charlotte, are you any good at mysteries?" 

She nodded. 

"Good. Maybe you can help me, then, because James doesn't get it."

"I'll try," she said with a shrug.

*

"Don't take this the wrong way, or anything," Charlotte said, "but who's to say that Professor Delacour is the one doing the double-crossing? There are quite a few scenarios to choose from. Perhaps she's a double agent for the Ministry and she's working with your parents? Or, perhaps she's double-crossing your parents, like you think. Did you ever think that your parents might be the double agents, or that they're double-crossing the Ministry?" 

_"My parents?"_

"Well, you can't rule out the possibilities. I agree, it's incredibly far-fetched. Your parents worked so hard to destroy the dark side; why would they help it come to power again? But that doesn't mean that we can't consider it.

"To be honest, though," she continued, "I don't think that Jack has anything to do with it. I think that you're just desperate for ties, and he was an easy choice. I don't see how he could fit in. Frankly, though, I don't see how any of it fits together, so maybe Jack could be involved. Still, Landon, you can't let your…erm…personal feelings towards your brother get in the way.

"Also, why would your parents be working for the Ministry? Why are their services needed? I also don't think that Death Eaters are all that they're worried about; it has to go deeper. Death Eaters wouldn't attack Hogwarts; there's too few of them; they'd all be killed. And, no matter what the number, they wouldn't attack as long as Dumbledore's here. If You-Know-Who was afraid of him, then the Death Eaters must be. 

"I _do_ think that you may be onto something, though. I mean, it almost…_almost_ makes sense if you think about it hard enough that you're half delusional. I'm only kidding! But I'm sick of talking about this; it's giving me a headache."

Pauses such as these were becoming a regular component in my "friendship" (?) with Bronte lately. 

"How long do you think that we've been in here?" I asked.

She looked down at her watch, and picked up her wand so she could better see. I wondered how she was planning on figuring it out; we had no idea about when we left the classroom in the first place. And anyway, it was a rhetorical question. Leave it to Bronte to take me seriously.

"At least three hours," she said with a yawn as she set her wand back on the floor. "Dinner ended half an hour ago, I'm sure that James will have realized that we've not turned up."

"Maybe not," I said, yawning as well. "You know James, after all."

She chuckled a bit. "Yeah. I'm tired."

"Me too."

"And hungry."

"Me too."

"And cold."

"I'm not."

"Oh." 

"Here," I said, taking off my cloak. I had a Weasley jumper on underneath; there was no way that I would be cold wearing a Weasley jumper.

"Thanks."

I hoped that she wouldn't take it to personally. It's not like I gave her my cloak because I liked her, or anything. If I had liked her, I would have…you know, offered to put my arm around her or something. I would have done that if Fiona were in here with me. I _did_ hang around with James, after all. I just didn't want to hear her complain about being cold. I hate being cold, because it hurts after awhile. I know all about being cold for a long period of time. One time, Mum and Dad were out at an Awards Ceremony, and Emily and I decided to tie up our babysitter and steal her wand so we could go outside and play in the rain. We didn't realize that the door would lock behind us, or that we couldn't get inside until Mum and Dad got home four hours later. From then on, they left us with Grandmum and Grandpa Weasley. 

But anyway, I would much rather have Fiona here, now. Nice, romantic atmosphere (or at least I could make it that way), kind of chilly, dark…blimey, I've been hanging around James too long. 

Of course, it really wasn't _too_ bad being stuck in here with Bronte. I mean, sure, she did talk a lot, but that wasn't too bad. At least it passed the time, and I didn't focus on how hungry and tired I was. 

Fiona was prettier though. Her hair wasn't boring brown; it was blond, and a lovely blond indeed. Her eyes were…all right, so Bronte had better eyes. But…but Fiona was just…better. 

Thump.

"Help."

*

"Landon?" 

"Mm?"

"Can I go to sleep?" 

"Sure." 

"Positive?" 

"Sure. I'll go to sleep when you wake up." 

I had firmly decided not to go to sleep at the same time as Charlotte. If people were going to come look for us, I wanted them to know where we were. 

Bronte was peaceful when she slept. Nothing like the horror that she was during the day, that was for sure. I noticed that one of her curls fell in front of her face. She sleepily pushed it out of the way and sighed. In fact, when she slept…she was almost…pretty. 

No! No! No! No! 

Charlotte Bronte, mortal enemy, and yet…confidant… was not pretty! OK, so maybe she was. But there was no way that I would ever tell her that. Hours seemed to pass (they didn't _seem_, I was looking at Charlotte's watch), and finally, I was so tired that I nudged Charlotte awake. She smacked me in the nose, but apologized when she realized that it was me. 

"I want to go to sleep now," I told her.

"Then sleep," she said, lying back down. 

"I can't while you're asleep. You've slept long enough; it's my turn. Stay awake in case anyone comes, all right?" 

"I hate you," she said, as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

I pulled off my jumper and used it as a pillow and drifted into sleep…only to open my eyes two seconds later. Bloody hell, I couldn't sleep. I tried to bore myself with thinking of James' reaction when we got out of here. _'You got stuck in a broom closet? That's pathetic! Wait…you were stuck in a broom closet with _Charlotte_? Did you score, man?' _Never mind that we were only eleven. 

In fact, once a rather amused Professor Dumbledore found us, James' reaction was quite what I had expected. Only he was rather jealous that I was the one who 'spent the night' (I let him think whatever he wanted to) with Charlotte. 

I wasn't expecting Charlotte's reaction, though. The next night, when we had to serve our first detention (clean the entire dungeon- no magic), she dipped her hand in the soapy bucket and flicked water at me in the last classroom that we had to clean. 

"Sorry, Weasley, you looked kind of dirty. All those freckles on your face…I thought that they were dirt, for a moment, there. So sorry."

"I'm not the only one with freckles," I said, splashing a large amount of water on her. She sputtered indignantly, and then (I could practically see the gears turning. It was weird) she figured that this was the last classroom, so she might as well. She picked up the bucket and dumped it on my head, all the while laughing hysterically. 

"What was that for?" I asked her.

"Retribution."

"All right." 

Then she did something that was rather unexpected (even more than the bucket). She stuck out her hand for me to shake.

"Friends?" she asked, rather timidly.

I studied her for a moment. What the hell? I shook her hand.

"Friends."

AN: Aw, they're friends now! How cute! I have decided that while working up to the climax of this story, I need more Landon/Charlotte interaction, so that is what I was trying to achieve in this chapter. I hope that you liked it.

Also, Jack is not some random character that I felt like adding. He is very significant, and I fell in love with him the instant that I came up with the idea of adding another Weasley (but I couldn't make Hermione pregnant, it would ruin the story). So I came up with this rather twisted way to add him in…and another plot twist! 

Does he have anything to do with this 'mystery'? 

What is the mystery that Landon is trying to solve, anyway? Will he ever figure it out? 

Hmmm…

Hope that you enjoyed this chapter! 

WeeIrishLass


	8. Chapter Seven

**_Hey! I'm very glad that I got positive reviews for that last chapter. I had though_ it _to be a bit…over the top_ **(for lack of a better phrase**),_ but I guess not. I'm really glad that you all like Landon. He's my favorite little creation. I really hadn't intended on his personality being like this, but it just developed, and I'm very pleased with the way he's turned out. I think that he's a pretty good _**(if I do say so myself)** _combination of his parents, exuding both of their good traits and bad alike. _**

****

**_ Cheers!_**

Life slipped back into the typical lull after Charlotte and I came out of the closet (not like it sounds) except for the typical Fiona and Jessie joke. Hogwarts was seriously considering banning Weasley Wizard Wheezes from the school, but my uncles were fighting it in meetings that, we'd heard, often erupted in series of laughing fits. Professor Dumbledore fought the rather overbearing school board, claiming that laughter was necessary to the form of learning that Hogwarts subscribed to. 

What form was that and why didn't Mum know about it?

On this particular morning, Professor Dumbledore was looking rather sallow-faced. I figured, hey, he's an old guy, but it seemed to be more than that. He was very tired, so it seemed. Every one of the teachers seemed to be paying careful attention, while he appeared stubbornly avoiding his being treated as 'an old man'. I can understand it, I suppose. If I was once the most powerful wizard in the world (we all know that he could have kicked Voldemort's arse) and I was nearly as old as…well, dirt, then I would be in denial, too. 

I wonder what my parents will be like when they're old. I don't consider my parents old at all. Why, I think that they're as young as they've ever been. I mean white-hair-nursing-home-senile-wearing-name-tags-in-order-to-remember-each-other old. Now _that's_ old. I can't picture my parents…well, helpless like that. I don't think that I want to. 

Anyway, Dumbledore's old. I think that he's on the brink of retirement, or so it seems as if he is. I wonder if that would be a good thing. Mum would be headmistress, then, but then I would probably get in _more_ trouble for even the slightest thing. Even more so than I had been. But then, we might be able to move back to our old house since Mum would have to be at work more often. It's not like I don't like our new house with monsters and all, but I enjoyed our old house in which there were no large reptiles or the threat of dismemberment. 

Charlotte was surprisingly chatty. In fact, she was…over-chatty in that cordial kind of way. Since we were friends now, I guess, she decided that everything should be peachy-keen. Peachy keen, fine. But as if she were talking to her Great Uncle Herbert that she hadn't seen since she was two? I don't think so. 

James seemed rather slighted that he was left out of our strikingly interesting conversation about the weather, but I had to deal with it being the back-seated one for nearly four months, if the glass is half-empty. With me the glass is almost always half-empty…at least in my head.

I wonder if I'm too cynical? 

Fiona and Jessie came down to breakfast then. Perfect opportunity, perfect opportunity. There was only on problem: Charlotte was sitting next to me. 

"So, Landon," Charlotte said, as I looked over her shoulder at Fiona…she was so pretty, "I was looking through this book. It's- oh, where'd it go? Hold on." 

She ducked out of sight to pick up the book from the ground and I took the opportunity to give her a little shove, clearly vacating the seat. I gave James one of those meaningful glances while Charlotte was still on the floor, and he moved down two seats, pulling Charlotte off the ground and into the seat next to him. Perfect. 

"Fiona! Jessie! Would you girls like to sit down?" I asked. _No, Landon, they'd like to _stand_ while eating. It helps the digestive process, didn't you know?_ Honestly, what _was_ my problem? I pity Fiona, sometimes, that she had to put up with me like that. I pity James that he had to hear my mindless chatter about her, and I pity Charlotte having to watch me making a fool out of myself and knowing that I would kill her if she made even the slightest interjection.

Charlotte looked about to object, but James clamped his hand over her mouth and switched her plate (she eats scrambled eggs with catsup and marmalade!) with the clean place setting for Fiona. 

Jessie looked rather wary, but Fiona's face lit up (or at least I like to think it did). I love Fiona's smile. It reaches to her eyes in that way that you can't express in words. It's more of a warm and fuzzy feeling that you get, like when you come inside from playing in the snow and your mum has chocolate chip cookies that are still warm and hot chocolate ready when you come inside to warm up by the fire (Mum used to do that for Emily and I. Surprisingly, her chocolate chip cookies were _very_ good. I say surprisingly, because the majority of Mum's culinary experiments tended to end in disaster in which stomachs required pumping.). Suddenly not so hot when your Mum is used in the analogy. 

_Note to self: Never talk about mother while thinking of girls in any way, shape, or form._

"Sure, Landon," Fiona said, sitting down next to me. Jessie looked rather put out, because if she had any say in it, she'd be sitting with Tim and Chris (in their second year, although often conspirators in the Thomas/Finnigan Prank Scheme). Jessie reluctantly sat down with a sneaky glance, making me wish that I'd brought a Sneakoscope to breakfast. 

"So…" I said lamely.

She just looked at me expectantly, waiting to hear what I had to say. If I had anything to say then maybe her expectancy would be warranted. 

"Read any good books lately?" I heard someone that sounded like me saying. Certainly Landon Weasley would _not_ say something dumb like that. Most definitely not, in fact, I'm _sure_ that Landon Weasley didn't say a thing about books, reading, or anything of the like. In fact, Landon Weasley doesn't even read. 

All right, so maybe he does. 

Apparently, Fiona doesn't.

"Erm…not really. I'd say that the only thing I've read this year has been textbooks, but I haven't even read those," she said with a laugh. "I'd ask you the same thing, but I don't think that breakfast lasts _that_ long."

What's that supposed to mean? Oh, I'm sorry that I read too much for you. I'm sorry that I'm freakishly smart due to my overlarge reading capacity! 

"Guess not," I said with a small chuckle. She spread marmalade on her toast, not saying anything. Until…

"Landon?"

"Yes?" I asked expectantly, sitting on the edge of my seat, just dying to hear what she would say.

"Could you pass me the milk please?" 

*

The pre-Christmas jitters were in the air. Teachers were piling on homework over the holidays, which was rather stupid if you ask me. What's the point of calling it a holiday if you're not really on holiday? It doesn't even count as a _mini-break_ if homework is involved! 

Charlotte was very excited to meet all of our family; I didn't know why, she knew most of them anyway. I think that she had some preconceived idea that we Weasleys were a rowdy, uncontrollable, unimpressionable lot who were opinionated about everything. Don't know where she got that idea. Rowdy? Yes. Uncontrollable? No…well, not really. Unimpressionable? No. Opinionated about everything? Mostly everything. 

We climbed on the Hogwarts Express on December 23rd, and would be going directly to our new house in Italy. Dad was going to pick the three of us in his signature Porsche, and we were going to get settled before everyone else came. 

The train ride back to King's Cross was entirely uneventful. Charlotte and I worked on our "mystery", getting very frustrated indeed at our lack of motives or substance. James persuaded us to a game of Exploding Snap, and we snacked on Every Flavor Beans until arriving at King's Cross (Hahaha, James got rancid cheddar!). 

The first thing that I noticed (besides the pouring rain) when we'd reached the station was my sister and Rachel trying to stick a Weasley's Wet Start Firework down our Uncle Fred's pants. He was pretending not to notice, and I was sure that he'd have some trick up his sleeve for his nieces. 

As we were collecting our things from our car, I heard fireworks. The three of us looked out the window to see crackers of every different colour and shape going off around Emily and Rachel as they spun around, giggling while pixies darted to and fro, dashing in and out of the fireworks. 

We got off the train, and Dad met us. He put our trunks on a cart, and laughed out loud at the sight of mine. It was strapped with rope, trying to keep the lid from flying off due to the excessive amount of books inside. Emily and Rachel (after failing the attempt to light Uncle Fred's arse on fire) hopped on the cart and sat royally on our trunks, pretending that they were queens of the world. They would wave to people as they passed, sending random little exclamations their way.

"I'll meet you at the palace for tea time, my dear!" Emily called to one particularly disgruntled postal worker. Dad shushed her, but only so Rachel could take over.

"My private carriage will pick you up! Wear something blue!" she called shrilly. Dad fought back laughter as the postman shook his head at the two giggling little girls. 

We all loaded in the Porsche (really, don't ask me how- to this day I still marvel at that thing) and drove off into the English countryside. When we were far away from what seemed like all forms of civilization besides sheep, if they count, Dad looked around.

"Don't tell your mother about this," he told us, and we laughed. He pressed a button on the steering wheel where the horn would usually be, and the car became invisible as we rose above the clouds.

"Uncle Ron?" James asked.

"Yes, James," Dad said, readjusting his rearview mirror to look at us.

"Didn't you and my dad run this thing into the Whomping Willow?" James asked him in all sincerity. Bronte thought that it was hilarious, though. The Whomping Willow had long since been dug up, and the tunnel caved in.

The corners of Dad's eyes crinkled up like they did when he was grinning, laughing, or remembering something from his school days. 

He said, "Who's asking? The Ministry of Magic or my nephew?" 

"The Ministry of Magic!" chirped Rachel, giggling so hard that her messy black pigtails were nearly coming out. 

"Well, if the Ministry is asking, then no, I have never seen a flying car in my life!" Dad exclaimed, looking shocked that someone would even suggest the idea of a flying car. Emily giggled from the front seat with her hand over her mouth. Dad reached over and tickled her side, causing her to squeal as she squirmed to get out of his grasp. He winked at me and I sent a half-hearted smile back.

We landed much later in the Italian countryside, seeing nothing but vineyards all around us. We drove (visible, now) to our new house. Dad held up a hand to silence us as his cell phone rang and he flipped it open. Why did Dad have a Muggle cell phone?

"Weasley," he barked into it, taking his other hand off of the wheel to yank the antenna. "Negative…negative…no, sir…affirmative, sir…0600 hours, sir…negative, sir…yes, sir." He closed the phone with a snap, and put it back in his pocket. Talking between Charlotte and James commenced, and Emily and Rachel went about making faces at Italian farmers as we passed them. I didn't join in the conversation …or face making. Instead, my mind was focused on what had just happened with Dad.  He was the co-founder of his study. He didn't have a boss in the Ministry, save Grandpa (he had been given the position of Minister of Magic ten years ago), and he would never call his own father 'sir'. 

I didn't even notice that we were driving down a huge cobblestone driveway, or that we had arrived at our new huge house. Dad told us to go inside and that he would have the house elves take care of our trunks. I ran inside, and found myself face to face with Christiana. She shook her finger at me and spoke in rapid Italian. 

Emily marched up next to me and said, "She's telling you to take your shoes off, Landon." She displayed by leaving her mary janes by the front door as the woman clasped her hands together in delight and gave Emily a pinch on the cheek. Sure, my sister was sweet if you didn't know any English. I followed suit and left my sneakers by the door, as well. Charlotte and James did the same as Dad came in from the garage, nearly tripping over our shoes. 

We laughed and Dad showed us our rooms. James would be staying in my room, and Charlotte would take the guest room across the hall and share with one of my cousins who would be arriving later. James plopped his backpack down, and immediately climbed to the top bunk. 

"Don't mind, do you, mate?" he asked me, as he was already kicking off his socks and getting comfortable. 

"Not at all," I lied. I always slept in the top bunk, and whenever James slept over, he always took it from me. We knocked on Charlotte's door and the three of us walked down the stairs into the living room. 

Mum popped in downstairs. She spoke in rapid Italian to Christiana as she took her coat and briefcase from her. Dad smiled from his seat on the couch with the paper, and came over to kiss Mum. And life was normal again. 

"Aw, Uncle Ron! Aunt Mione! Why do you have to do that in front of us?" James whined with a grin. "We're at a very impressionable age, you know." 

"Why didn't Evie come home with us?" I asked.

"She went to her _boyfriend's_ house," James told me. Evie had a boyfriend? I didn't know that. But then again, I was pent up in the library most every day. 

Emily and Rachel came running in from outside, tracking mud all over the carpet, but squealing with delight. 

"Mummy!" Emily yelled as she jumped into Mum's arms. 

"What, sweetheart?" Mum asked her. 

"Can we make Christmas cookies tonight? Please, please, pretty please?" she whined.

"Please, Aunt Mione?" asked Rachel from her position around Mum's legs. "Oh, pretty please? We'll be very good."

"I don't see why not," Mum said. "Why don't you two clean up while I get changed and then we'll make cookies." Emily and Rachel detached themselves from Mum and ran from the room as Christiana came in clucking in Italian over the muddy parlour. Mum turned to us. "Would you three like to help?

We were about to respond when Emily and Rachel came running in, no longer muddy. I have to give Emily credit. When she wanted to do something, she could get it done rather fast. Likewise, when she was dead set against doing something, i.e. chores, she could be as slow as molasses. 

Mum smiled at them. "Sorry, girls!" she said. "I still have to change. Give me five minutes, all right?"

Fifteen minutes later, we were all in the spacious kitchen. Emily and Rachel were standing on kitchen chairs over the counter, rolling cookies into shapes and cutting them out with Mum's wand. Their too- large aprons were nearly covered in flour. They giggled as Mum showed them how they could bewitch the red and green sprinkles that they were throwing about to move around the cookies in little circles. 

Usually, Mum's kitchen endeavors proved less than fruitful, and rather a disaster. Not her cookies, though, I would give her that. They could rival Grandmum's that was for sure. It was the only time that Dad or the house elves would allow her in the kitchen. 

Charlotte was taken-back seeing Mum in her present state, I think. Rather than the ever-professional Professor Granger-Weasley in a business suit, she was seeing Landon's Mum in a pair of blue jeans and black t-shirt with MADD (Magical Attack and Defense Department) stamped across the front in white letters while her thick, wavy brown hair spilling haphazardly around her shoulders. This was the Mum that I knew, but I don't think that Bronte could handle seeing one of her precious professors in the position of a mother.

Mum handed us a bowl from one of the other counters, saying with a wink, "I figured that I should save you some before your dad got to it."

Speaking of the devil, the smell of cookies brought Dad into the kitchen, and he helped himself to a liberal scoop of chocolate chip cookie batter. Mum swatted him on the arm, and he kissed her, cookie dough and all ("Ew!" from Emily and Rachel, and "That's _twice_ today! What are you trying to do to us?" from James). 

"Just wait until you get a boyfriend," Charlotte said, pointedly to the little girls.

"How would you know, Bronte?" I asked her.

Before she could answer with her sure-fire spiteful remark, Dad turned on the radio onto full blast, a Weird Sisters oldie (that he and Mum loved) spilling into the kitchen as he danced around like a wild-man, singing (off-key, mind you) and making a mess of everything in general. I was definitely surprised when he threw handfuls of flour at us and Mum didn't even bother to scold him. My parents seemed to be as giddy as we were around Christmas, and even Mum didn't care about a mess.

We decided that we had better leave the kitchen before an all-out flour war broke out, so we took our bowl of batter to the living room. Charlotte marveled as James turned on the television (both of her parents were magical, not like Mum and Uncle Harry who had grown up in Muggle homes), and an old episode of _Monty Python's Flying Circus_ had us doubled over in laughter and fighting the urge not to throw up all over the furniture due to excessive amounts of cookie mix.

I heard Mum shoo the girls from the kitchen, and up to bed. It was the first time I realized exactly how late it was, and saw that James and Bronte were both in pajamas. I left them to the cookies and John Cleese, and walked upstairs to go to bed. They followed me a few minutes later, and came into my room. Charlotte made herself comfortable in _my_ bed, telling me that I had to take the window seat because _she_ was a guest and the girl. 

Girls use their femininity as pawns in their cruel game to gain dominance over the universe. Go figure.

Believe it or not, by midnight we wanted a midnight snack. Being respectable "troublemakers"' that we were, we "snuck" down to the kitchen for crisps, sandwiches, anything edible. I went down the stairs first, but I saw the shadows of Mum and Dad still there, and (much to my disgust) heard Mum giggling. I lost my appetite, but since they weren't _his_ parents, James marched right into the kitchen, told them to get a room and brought a bag of crisps upstairs. Mum and Dad would have killed me if I ever did that, or they would have said (or worse- done) something schmaltzy and romantic to get me to leave the room.  James just had that charm about him, though. He could get people to do anything.

The next morning was Christmas Eve (don't try to make sense out of it; yes I know that it's an oxymoron), and Mum was at her wit's end trying to get the house ready for all of our relatives. Dad, of course, was completely laid back about the whole thing. He took the little girls flying, and let the three of us use some of his old brooms. 

Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny arrived at noon, and Mum and Dad took a break to sit and visit with their old friends. We came inside in the midst of a rather interesting conversation:

Dad was saying, "My goal for this holiday is to get Mione drunk."

Uncle Harry laughed a bit, and Aunt Ginny said, "I love drunk Hermione!" 

"Do you-do you remember that time in-in Majorca?" Uncle Harry was saying, barely comprehensible through laughter.

Mum was blushing furiously as the other three adults laughed at her. "Not now," she said, "_My son_ _is standing right behind you_."

Uncle Harry said, "Well, he should know what his mother is like when she's drunk, shouldn't he?" 

"No!" Mum and Dad said at the same time. 

House elves passed carrying a load of clean and folded laundry over their heads. Mum stopped them, telling them that I could carry my own clothes. Of course, I consented and removed the wicker laundry basket from the little elves, which were walking away, bowing like I was some Greek god.

We walked upstairs, and Bronte said, "I never knew that your mother was so…wild, Landon."

James and I laughed. "Wild?" I said. "My Mum has got to be the most responsible person in the northern hemisphere, all right? In no way is she wild."

We heard voices downstairs grow louder. Someone must have just arrived. We walked down the stairs to find Uncle Bill and Aunt Victoria, with David (Daniel also went home with his steady, Ebony Miller). 

By six o'clock that night, everyone had arrived. We all sat at a very long table in the very large dining room. Christiana fussed over everything, and Mum talked to her copiously in Italian (I could understand enough to know that Mum was thanking her profusely for…well, everything). 

It struck me then that I hadn't seen Jack since I'd been at home. A little boy who is barely two years old wouldn't just get up and leave without telling anybody. All right, so maybe he might, but I doubt that Mum and Dad would have let that happen. 

"Where's Jack?" I asked. Everyone seemed then to realize that the youngest grandchild was missing and began asking the same question.

Dad cleared his throat. "Jack," he said, "Is undergoing some tests at St. Mungo's with the Ministry. I'm going to fetch him later tonight."

"Why aren't you two there?" asked Aunt Vicky. 

Mum said, "We're not allowed to be." She was clearly agitated by this. "They won't even let parents stay." The adults seemed to understand what she meant, but I was at a loss. I could tell that James and Charlotte were as well, but didn't think any more of it. 

It was Christmas. No thinking during Christmas (unless you're my mum). 

We all had problems getting to sleep that night. James and I were too excited to even sit still during dinner, how were we expected to sleep through the night? We ended up talking until one in the morning, and by then we managed to fall asleep only because we were dead tired and our adrenaline had crashed after multiple "second-winds".

*

"GET UP!!! IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!" 

I sat up, bleary-eyed, as James said, "What the hell is that?" from the top bunk. 

"GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP!!!" Emily and Rachel threw open our door and continued shouting in our ears before running on to the next room. Jack toddled after them, trying to keep up, saying, "Up! Up! Wakey! Wakey!" 

Slowly, the realization that it was Christmas hit, and we all began slowly coming out of our rooms. Rachel and Emily were now in Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's room, jumping on their bed while shouting. We then heard Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny yelling at them, so the went on to my parents' room, Jack following after in a very cute manner. They jumped on Mum and Dad's bed, too, as gradually, aunts and uncles began clambering out of their rooms, too. 

"STOP!!" we heard from my parents' room. I poked my head in to see Jack near tears, with his hands up in the air. Mum and Dad were still cozily in bed with pillows over their heads, trying to drown out the noise and go back to sleep. 

"Stop!" Jack said again. "No hurt Mama!" He tried very hard to climb up onto their very tall bed, but it wasn't working. Dad reached his arm down and scooped him up, muttering something that was incoherent as Jack snuggled in with Mum and Dad. 

Uncle Harry poked his head in the room. "All right, if we have to get up, then so do you two. Come on." He threw open the shades, causing Mum to groan as the light hit her. 

I saw from out the window that there was no snow on the ground. This was horrible; it was my first Christmas without snow on the ground. It always snowed in England, but apparently not in Italy. Bloody Italy. 

James, Charlotte and I walked downstairs to where many of our cousins were already rifling through the huge pile of presents under the tree to find those with their names on the tags. We joined in the heap as my parents came downstairs with Uncle Harry and Jack. 

Grandfather lit a fire in the hearth and Christiana was coming in, bearing hot chocolate and tea for everyone who wasn't busy in the full-scale attack that was going on under the tree. 

Jack seemed to be teetering on the edge, unsure of how to get into the pile of presents. 

"Jack! Come here, Jack!" Emily called from her place near the fire. Jack walked over to her, tripping now and then on wrapping paper, and sat down with a plop next to Emily as she handed him a present. 

"Don't let him too close to the fire, Emily!" Mum told her. 

"All right, Mum!" Emily called back. I wondered if she was even listening; she was too busy tearing Quidditch wrapping paper to shreds.  

 I was unwrapping a book that I had mentioned a couple hundred times to Mum and Dad. It was the next in a series that I had been reading (about a wizard who loses his powers and gets trapped in the Muggle world). Naturally, I shouted showers of thanks to Mum and Dad before starting to read. I was almost finished the first chapter when I remembered that there were still other presents under the tree, just dying to be opened. I set my book in the neat pile and was about to dive in when Jack ran across the room screaming and attaching himself around Mum's knees. 

"Jack, sweetheart, what's wrong?" she asked, stroking his hair and trying not to fall over. He had a death grip around her leg. 

"It's all right, Mum," Emily said, coming up with her smug big sister look on. "Professor McGonagall just popped up in the fire; she needs to speak with you. It just scared him, that's all."

Mum laughed a bit, before attempting to walk to the fire, dragging Jack with her on her leg. It really was quite funny watching her attempt to sit down while Jack was still holding on for dear life. I made it a point to listen to their conversation.

"What's wrong, Minerva?" Mum asked.

"We need you here, Hermione," McGonagall said. 

Mum sighed. "It's Christmas. I'm not leaving my family on Christmas. Besides, can't Albus handle it?" 

McGonagall's eyes darted from us kids to Mum. "If he was in any condition to…" she said pointedly and cautiously, "Then he would." 

Mum looked at her for a moment, before understanding seemed to wash over her face. "Give me fifteen minutes," she said before McGonagall's head disappeared with a _pop!_. Mum tried to get up, although Jack was still clamped around her leg. "Ron, could you…?" 

Dad came over, and pried him off of her leg, and the little boy immediately fastened himself around Dad's neck. Mum and Dad walked out of the room, talking in hushed tones about what had just happened. I don't think that any of the other kids noticed it. 

I didn't think that I was supposed to.

This would be the sort of thing that I would be going to therapy for in later life (not really, though, but for the sake of humour): 

_"Hello, my name's Landon Weasley."_

_"Hi, Landon!" _

_"And my mum's…a workaholic." _

_Applause._

_"She was so much of a crazed workaholic that…she abandoned us when I was eleven years old. On Christmas day! I never got over it. It traumatized me." _

Dad whispered the reason of Mum's absence to his brothers and sisters-in-law, and they all seemed to understand quite well the predicament that she was put in, and didn't question anything. I bloody well would have, but that's just me. 

I wondered if this had anything to do with our mystery. Considering that everything was related somehow, this must have a string in the web that was spinning. Oh, spiders analogy. I hate spiders. A lot. 


	9. Chapter Eight

Author's Note: I have just a question. Is Landon…boyish enough? I don't know if you could tell by my penname, and I feel sorry if you can't, because it's rather obvious, I'm a girl, and I'm not exactly a genius on a guy's psyche. It wouldn't make a big deal about it, usually, but since he's narrating, I'd hate for him to come out sounding like a "mama's boy", or girlish. He most definitely _isn't_, and I don't want to be giving you readers that impression. Feedback, please, on this matter, as it is greatly distressing me (I usually revise two or three times on my original to take out all form of femininity). I'm wagering that there should be another four or five chapters before I conclude this story. Also, sorry if this chapter's a little intense. I was listening to Gustav Holst's "The Planets" to get into the mood as I was writing this, and just happened to be listening to the "Mars- The God of War" movement as this chapter was finished. __

Cheers!

We were all sitting around the dinner table the next night, Mum's empty seat leaving a profound absence. Uncle George had finally announced his engagement to a Muggle by the name of Annabelle Smith. He wanted to know what 'Bella' meant in Italian, but Mum wasn't there to answer it. All right, so maybe it wasn't profound, but he really wanted to know. 

"'Beautiful'!" I said, finally. "'Bella' means beautiful." 

Everyone stared at me like I'd sprouted a third nostril for a while, before Dad said, "How the bloody hell'd you know that?" I shrugged, and Dad laughed at me, shaking his head. I don't understand what was so funny about it, really. Honestly, who hasn't heard the song _Bella __Notte_? Everyone then started pumping me about what other words I knew in Italian, and no matter how many times I insisted that I didn't speak it, they still kept asking. I mean, really, I had been so entirely attention starved lately that if I had wanted more attention, and I spoke Italian, how stupid would it have been not to start talking in Italian when I could, thus getting attention? Wait, I've just confused myself…

Christiana was clearing the leftovers of our crème Brule dessert, and we walked back into the living room. We were just settling in, us children on the floor with new gifts, when there was a _pop!_ in the living room and Mum appeared in the hallway, hanging her coat and scarf. It was evident that something was wrong; merely by the way that she was holding herself. 

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Jack called toddling over to meet her with arms outstretched. She smiled slightly, but her eyes were still sad as she lifted him from the chair and held him close. 

"Something is wrong," Emily surmised for everyone. 

Mum gave a watery smile, and softly said, "Yes, darling, there is." She and Dad made it a point never to lie to us about trivial little things, such as being bothered by something (unless it had to do with each other).

The adults looked from each other to the kids. Kate noticed this.

"Hey, kids," she said, standing up. "Why don't we leave the grown ups to talk and go do something else?" 

"Like what?" asked Rachel. 

"How about we…just play with our toys in another room?" 

The little kids consented, and us older children stayed. Dad gave me one of those looks that said, 'you too', so I stood up, followed by James and Charlotte. One by one, the rest of the kids were shooed out of the room. Like any self-respecting "trouble makers" we listened at the door after Aunt Angelina closed it. 

"How is he?" Uncle Harry asked. 

Mum took awhile to answer. I supposed that meant that she was trying to compose herself, for when she finally spoke, her voice was raspy and quiet with intermittent little sobs. "He's…he's dying," she managed to croak out. A hush came over the room, everyone as shocked as she was, apparently. 

_Who was 'he'? _I wondered. I would not realize the implications of that night, nor the severity of the day's happenings until much later, upon discovering how much this 'he' meant to the world. 

"How long?" we finally heard grandfather say. 

"Two weeks, maybe three," Mum said. "I'm taking over, effective as of next week." 

The realization hit me like a punch in the stomach. Things suddenly began falling into place in the effect of a snowball. I suddenly understood things that I wasn't ever supposed to know, and now that I did, it felt as if a piece of my innocence had been stripped away, never to return. I glanced down at James and Charlotte. James' face was entirely too white and his jaw was hanging open slightly. He looked as I felt. Charlotte had her hand to her mouth with tears streaming down her cheeks. They both understood as well. 

They looked up and met my eyes. All three of us were thinking the same thing. I nodded and they followed me to the library, heads bowed and hearts heavy. For the 'most wonderful time of the year', it was sure turning out pretty sucky for me.

Inside the library, we sat silently in the overstuffed leather chairs. Charlotte was still crying, and I hated crying girls. I put my arm around her _(platonic!)_ and she cried into my shoulder. 

_Think, Weasley, think…_I remember, was racing through my mind. _You brought us into this mess…get us out of it…_

I looked up and saw James, with his head in his hands. I would have to be the strong one; there was no other way around it. My eyes moved from James to a plaque on the wall that was given to Mum when she graduated head of her class at WUM (Wizarding University of Merlin) from one of her professors. There were many Latin words and phrases that I didn't recognize, but underneath the foreign words was the translation, which read:

_Knowledge is Power. With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility._

*

If it's possible to have a bad Christmas holiday, the holiday of my first year was it. I don't know how I got through it; I was almost walking in a daze the entirety of the time off. When we went back to school, everyone was going on as if things were happy-go-lucky-oh-look-bluebirds-are-singing-Disney-style, and nothing was wrong. I couldn't stand to see my fellow students, namely, fellow Gryffindors acting with such a naivety, oblivious that our very own Headmaster was dying as we spoke. 

The day after we returned from holidays, Professor Dumbledore feebly attempted to come to breakfast with the students. Mum looked worried. So did I, I'm sure. Mum took one look at my face when the Headmaster walked in, and an understanding passed between the two of us. She knew that I knew what she knew. The look that she gave me was sympathetic, like she didn't want me to have to bare the pain of knowing what I did on my shoulders. She seemed to understand that my best friends knew of the Headmaster's condition as well, and she understood that we were commiserating together. She understood that I didn't want to be reminded that my heart was breaking. She didn't speak of it to me, because the look that passed between us said it all. 

To this day, I still have a strange connection/ mental telepathy with my mother that way. It seems odd that a son would be close to his mother like that, as usually the daughter is the one who gets all the female bonding time. Mum understands me better than anyone, it seems. Perhaps, though, that was simply because she was just my mother; I was her own flesh and blood. But, no, I like to believe that it's more than that. I have a special bond with Mum that I don't have with Dad (I think he's still rather miffed that I never played Quidditch). 

Charlotte was, once again, putting catsup and marmalade on her scrambled eggs. Honestly, the girl was (and still is) a walking mystery to me. I don't understand why she does what she does. Girls will always be a mystery to me, but Charlotte will always be a mystery to _everyone_. She saw Professor Dumbledore come in and gasped, nearly dropping the jar of marmalade. Oh, no, typical girl reaction. I was just waiting for her to put her hand to her forehead and faint dead on the ground and need to be revived with smelling salts, but then I followed her gaze. 

Professor Delacour was pouring the Headmaster a goblet of pumpkin juice. But that wasn't all that she was pouring. It seemed as if there was a vile underneath the sleeve of her robes, pouring out a white powder simultaneously with the juice. 

I did a double take, trying to see if I had actually seen correctly. When I looked for the second time, there was no vile and no white powder. I was just seeing things, I suppose, and Charlotte had only been gasping at the frailty of the Headmaster. 

I ducked out of sight to pick up my novel, hoping to finish the next chapter. It was entirely too suspenseful, and I found myself reading more often than studying these days. My parents shouldn't buy me books anymore. I might get B's. 

This chapter of my book was very interesting. The main character had just unearthed a conspiracy against the Prime Minister, Tony Blair. It was now up to him to stop it without any magic at all (he had lost his powers, if you recall). He was just about to hack into the government's computer system when a sound of shattering glass could be heard in the Great Hall. 

Professor Dumbledore had dropped his glass on the stone floor, and had gone rigid and whiter than he previously was. The teachers were rushing to his aid, and Professor Snape conjured a stretcher to rush the Headmaster to the hospital wing. 

*

The snow outside was beckoning us, so Charlotte, James and I put on heavy clothes and winter cloaks and went outside to play in the fluffy white blanket that covered the grounds. An all-out snowball fight broke out around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and soon, we were all soaked to the bone, absolutely freezing, and shaking to the point of being Weasley/Bronte/Potter Frappes. 

It was about the time when James said, "I'm freezing my arse off!" when I saw the footprints. Something was strange about them. They were of human footprints, too big to be a student's. They were set at a stride that appeared to be running, and appeared to be leading towards the Forbidden Forest, and curiosity beckoned me. 

"Why don't we go inside, then?" I suggested, with no intention of going inside at all. I took off one of my gloves and dropped it inconspicuously on the ground behind me, following my friends up the steps of the school. "Bugger," I said, causing them to look at me. "I've dropped one of my gloves. I'll meet you two for dinner." I turned back to 'get my glove' before either of them could protest or ask a question. I was never a good liar, and my face would have given everything away. I picked up my glove and cast a drying spell on it before slipping my entirely too cold hand inside. I began to follow the footprints. It was then that I noticed something that I hadn't before. There was red snow along one pair of footprints, the pair that seemed to be ahead, that I could only assume was the prey. I looked along the tree line, but couldn't see any sparks coming from the forest, or anything that might be construed as curses, spells or hexes. Nothing. That was even worse.

I walked forward, looking around to see if anyone was watching. There was no one in sight, so I continued on. The forest was dense and thick around me, and the footprints were going deeper and deeper into the forest. At one point, they stopped and continued in no definite pattern, but scattered everywhere. Spatters of blood were in other places now. I assumed that a skirmish of sorts must have taken place here. Now, the predator and prey could no longer be distinguished. Blood was everywhere, in larger spurts, and the footprints seemed to have hit an even pace, as if they were striving for a common goal. _What the hell?_ I walked back the clearing where the fight took place. Whatever had made them stop? I noticed another set of footprints, then. They weren't mine, for I had been careful to step in the ready made larger footprints. These prints were close together. It seemed as if whatever it was took small, quick steps. I wondered how tracks this small, belonging to an obviously small creature, could have scared off two full-grown wizards.  I continued looking around the clearing, but couldn't see anything except small tracks leading towards where I stood. I could only assume that this…_thing_… had approached, and scared off the two fighters. I went back to following footsteps, and stumbled upon something that was quite disturbing. 

A body was lying directly in my path. 

I bit back the yell that was threatening to escape my throat, and stepped closer. It was cloaked in purple, and a white mask covered its' face. I wasn't stupid; I knew what this person was. My curiosity was piqued, and I meticulously lifted the mask from his face, trying not to disturb the body, praying that it was actually dead. When its' face was visible, I gasped. 

I recognized him clearly as Dr. Lucien Curtis, one of my dad's partners. He was on the Board of Executives, as well as the Board of Trustees. He was a multibillionaire, who had helped fund their project back when it was merely a half-developed thought in Uncle Charlie's mind. His brilliant insight and keen financial prowess landed him the position as CFO without question when he requested it, and the project depended on his judgment immensely.   Dr. Curtis, a Death Eater? I think not…or at least, I had until now. I lifted his left arm, and was repulsed to find that I had interrupted the stages of rigor mortis at their peak. I nearly gagged at the purplish blue hue that his cold skin had taken as I lifted the sleeve of his robe to reveal the Dark Mark tattooed there on his arm. 

I noticed that he was lying on his side. Just from this angle, seeing the front of his body, I had no idea what killed him, or by what means. I circled around to get a view of the back of his body, and, once more, bit my tongue so hard that it bled in order to keep from yelling. From the front, it merely looked as if he had been lying in the fetal position. But from the back, I saw that I was dead wrong (no pun intended). His spinal column had been snapped in half by something huge and terrible that I surmised, belonged to the footprints. 

I heard the sound of hissing behind me and gasped. Before I had time to turn around, someone had hurled a spell at whatever it was, grabbed me roughly by the arm, and began running at full speed away from that…_thing._ I turned around to see a gigantic spider. It dawned on me, then, that it wasn't one set of footprints, but eight. I hate spiders, and seeing one that was the size of my bedroom made me run even faster. I looked up at my saviour's face, trying to find out if I was being saved only to be killed by another Dark Wizard, or if it were Uncle Harry, Uncle Sirius or Dad, an occasion that would be ending in surefire punishment. But his face was masked, not by the mask of a Death Eater. It was covered with the same black cloak he wore that was covering his entire body. He dragged me out of the forest, turning occasionally to cast a hex at the spider-thing, which was still in hot-pursuit. 

I could see the edge of the forest approaching, and the light grew from thinning of trees. I had a terrible cramp in my side, and was breathing hard. But one look behind me at the spider-thing gave me an energy boost, and I wasn't tired for long. The man still had a steady and rather painful grip on my arm, and as far as I could tell, he wasn't showing any sign of loosening up or slowing down. I turned around again, and saw the spider was gaining on us. I pumped my legs harder, not wanting to face death by spider. Finally, we had broken through the trees. The spider was following. There was no way that we'd reach the school in time, and there was no way that this man, whoever he was, would let the killer spider reach the school. He changed directions. We were now headed towards Hagrid's hut. The spider followed. 

The man flung open the door and threw me inside before slamming the door abruptly. I glanced at the clock on the wall, and saw that the rest of the student body would be in dinner. The Great Hall faced opposite Hagrid's hut; so hopefully, no one would be watching the attack of the giant spider. I was so relieved that it was warm, but couldn't waste time basking in the warmth of the fire. I pressed my face to the window to see the man driving the spider back further into the forest. He finally sent one last curse at him, and the thing scuttled away. 

The man was walking back towards the hut, and so I figured it best to stay put. I took off my gloves, cloak, and a Weasley jumper, still wearing another underneath. The man walked in, still not revealing his face. I sat on one of Hagrid's large chairs, watching as the man poured himself a cup of tea. I could see from his nose down, and noticed when he visibly grimaced at the taste, wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and threw the cup to the ground, where it shattered. He couldn't do that; it wasn't his property- it was Hagrid's. What gave him the right to do that? Hagrid would come back after dinner to find his hut vandalized. The man was staring at me, a smile playing about his lips, as if just daring me to fix it. I stared back at where his eyes would be underneath the cloak, not intimidated. My conscience gave in, however, and I stooped down to where the shattered cup was. 

_"Reparo,"_ I muttered. The cup drew back together, and I placed it on the crude wooden table. A cruel smile was playing at the man's lips. I suddenly felt as if I was in danger. 

"Typical," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" I asked. 

"Just like a Weasley," he said, standing up and facing away from me. "Always meddling where they don't belong." He removed his cloak, revealing a head of platinum blond hair. I still hadn't seen his face, and for all I knew, this man could kill me at any second. 

"Who are you?" I asked.

He spun around. 

My mouth dropped open as I gaped at him. He smiled cruelly at the sheer irony of it all.

"Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you."


	10. Chapter Nine

**Author's Note: Hahahahaha…bet you weren't expecting _that!_ Heck, I wasn't expecting that! Actually…yes, yes, I was expecting that. The plot has taken an unexpected twist. Two of them, actually. Is the Headmaster actually going to die? Is Malfoy good or bad? How did Dr. Curtis die? Hmm…. You want the truth? _You can't handle the truth!!!_ I'm sorry, in a very hyper mood. I'm including a bit of the last chapter to help the ebb and flow of things. **

I think that now would be a good time to introduce latest idea. I'm turning this story into a series of four stories. The sequel will be starring Emily, and Jack will be the leading man in story #3. The fourth and final will be an epilogue to all three stories in which each character will be given five chapters about their later, post-Hogwarts life (i.e. love-life, career, etc.). 

Hahaha…if you read further in this chapter, you will reach a point where the words 'parents' and 'partners' are used a lot in one paragraph. I was looking, and figured out that you could rearrange the letters in both words and add/subtract a letter and you get the other word! Also, that reminds me. I discovered that the words 'prenatal' and 'parental' are almost the same. How weird! I wonder if they're related purposefully? Hmm…the mysteries of life…

Also, there is a section in this chapter that I'm going to switch out of Landon mode, and into Ron's psyche, because I need to capture another scene when Landon isn't present. It may seem a little out of place, but it's a key to the story.

Well, anyway, this author's note is too long as it is. Please, please, please, as much as I _hate_ begging for reviews, I'd very much like feedback on said idea. Enjoy this chapter!

Cheers!

…The man was walking back towards the hut, and so I figured it best to stay put. I took off my gloves, cloak, and a Weasley jumper, still wearing another underneath. The man walked in, still not revealing his face. I sat on one of Hagrid's large chairs, watching as the man poured himself a cup of tea. I could see from his nose down, and noticed when he visibly grimaced at the taste, wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and threw the cup to the ground, where it shattered. He couldn't do that; it wasn't his property- it was Hagrid's. What gave him the right to do that? Hagrid would come back after dinner to find his hut vandalized. The man was staring at me, a smile playing about his lips, as if just daring me to fix it. I stared back at where his eyes would be underneath the cloak, not intimidated. My conscience gave in, however, and I stooped down to where the shattered cup was. 

_"Reparo,"_ I muttered. The cup drew back together, and I placed it on the crude wooden table. A cruel smile was playing at the man's lips. I suddenly felt as if I was in danger. 

"Typical," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" I asked. 

"Just like a Weasley," he said, standing up and facing away from me. "Always meddling where they don't belong." He removed his cloak, revealing a head of platinum blond hair. I still hadn't seen his face, and for all I knew, this man could kill me at any second. 

"Who are you?" I asked. He spun around. My mouth dropped open as I gaped at him. He smiled cruelly at the sheer irony of it all.

"Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you."

*

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing here?" I asked him. "I bet you're the one who's killing Professor Dumbledore."

The look on his face was not one that I had been expecting. At first, he was a little angry, and indeed, it was my goal to provoke him. Then, he became rather sad. His steely gray eyes seemed to be staring off into space as he was contemplating something. When he spoke, his voice was cold and dark. "Don't speak of things that you don't know, young Weasley." 

"Well, I would know if you'd tell me," I said, hopefully. 

He smiled that same cruel smile again. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just like your Mudblood mother-"

"YOU LEAVE MY MOTHER OUT OF THIS!!!" I yelled at him, surprised that it was coming out of my own mouth. Of course, I had the Weasley temper, but I had never really demonstrated it to that extreme. I guess it just goes to show you…mess with Mama and meet your Maker. Pretty good alliteration, if I do say so myself. 

He clucked his tongue in that way which parents do to children, as if to say "naughty, naughty". To add to this annoyingly condescending act, he wagged his finger in my face as well with every staccato click of his tongue. "Temper, temper, Weasley," he said to me. I understood why my parents hated him. 

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What are you still doing here, Draco?" I asked him.

"That's Mr. Malfoy to you," he said, correcting me.

"Sorry…_Draco._" 

He leaned back in the wooden chair, putting his feet up on the table and lighting a fag. He inhaled slowly, as if trying to calm his nerves. Good. Hopefully that would take his mind off of killing me. Or maybe the smoke would fill his lungs, he wouldn't be able to breathe, and then he would die. Ah…wishful thinking. 

"So, you're my parents' mortal enemy, eh?" I said. Wonderful conversation starter, much like _'so, the weather…wow, that's some weather…what do you think of weather? Is it just a fad or here to stay?_' Honestly, my parents want to kill you! Great way to get on someone's good side, if you ask me. 

He laughed scathingly, which frightened me a bit. He took another deep inhalation from the cigarette and said,  "I guess you could say that." He threw the butt on to the floor, and removed one of his legs from the table in order to grind it into the ground with his heavily boot-clad foot.

I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't. "So, why did you save me, then?" 

He shrugged. "I didn't want to. If I hadn't, then your father, in turn, would have tortured me gruesomely before getting it over with and killing me. For some reason that I don't quite understand, your parents happen to be terribly fond of you. Don't ask me why. A load of trouble is all you are. Poking your nose where you don't belong, bloody impertinent, disobeying school rules, obnoxious, arrogant-"

"Are you done yet?" 

"No. Arrogant, foolish, a know-it-all, big-headed-"

"You said that twice," I told him. He removed his legs from the table, and leaned forward in his seat, looking me straight in the eye.

"Excuse me? Did I hear something? Because I think…_I think…_that I heard someone being very rude and interrupting me again!" 

"Good call, old chap! Way to think!" I said, "Because I _did_ interrupt you, and I really don't care if I'm very rude to you, because you're likely to kill me anyway. And, you said the same thing. You called me 'arrogant' and then you called me 'big-headed'. In essence, you reiterated yourself. In essence, you reiterated yourself. In essence you reiterated yourself. In essence, you-"

"Screw your parents!" he burst out savagely, standing up. "Screw them, partners or not, I'm killing you, I swear I am!" 

I stood up as well. I had him trapped. "Partners? You're partners with my parents?" 

He narrowed his eyes, seeing the trap that he'd walked into. "We work together, yes," he said, nodding his head slowly. "What are you playing at, Weasley?" 

I shrugged. "Not sure. What are _you_ playing at, Draco?" 

He grabbed me by the collar and pulled my face close to his, emphasizing each syllable as he said, "Weasley, what do you know? Tell me now, or else-"

"Or else the big vein in your head will pop?" I asked smartly. He roughly threw me backwards, frustrated, and I smiled to myself. Ah…my brilliant plan was succeeding. I wondered how exactly he planned on getting out of this. I wondered how exactly _I _planned on getting out of this.

"Now," I said in a very condescending voice, as if talking to Emily or Jack. "If you don't answer my questions, then I will tell everyone…and I mean _everyone_ what I know. And that may be rather detrimental to you." 

He stared me down, as if weighing out the options. I bet he was wishing that he hadn't smashed that fag into the ground when he did. A good shot of nicotine would be rather helpful to him now. My hopes were that I could scare him into asking my questions with the threat of potential blackmail. Considering that I was a first year, that was both terribly ambitious and extremely naive. Not only was I merely a first year, as I have stated many times, and was barely trained in dueling (I could disarm as well as other spells that we were forbidden from practicing), but this was a full-grown, full-trained, extremely smart (he was head-boy), highly dangerous wizard/felon who could probably kill me with his thumb. 

"No," he said plainly.

"Excuse me?" 

"You're stepping out of line, Weasley. I never liked that about your parents. They didn't know their place, and it's obvious that they haven't taught you _yours._ There is no was that I'll let you have the upper hand. You'd better tell me what you know and answer _my_ questions, or it may be rather detrimental to _you_." 

I gulped. He meant business, considering he was waving wand in front of my be- freckled nose. I narrowed my eyes. 

"Look, I don't care if you kill me," Hahaha…could I be lying more? "Because you even said that my Dad would kick your arse. So…for every question you ask me, I get to ask one of my own?" 

"How about, you just answer my questions or I blast you to a bloody pulp?" 

"Fair enough."

"What do you know?" 

I wasn't going without a fight. "Could you be a little specific? I mean, really, that's a very broad and general topic. I wouldn't know where to start, and I might be talking for hours on end. I need a little more depth than that."

He inhaled deeply, wishing once again, I'm sure, that his cigarette was still intact. I noticed that under his breath he was muttering, "Can't kill 'im, can't kill 'im, can't kill 'im…" His hands were balled in tight fists at his side, and his knuckles were white. This was actually rather humorous to me, for some reason, but I played innocent as he continued on trying not to explode. 

"What…" he began shakily, "Do you know about your parents?"

"I know a lot of things." Of course this isn't getting old! "I know that my Mum's in line to be Mistress of Magic, I know that my Dad could beat you up. I know that they're names are Ron and Hermione, and I know that they hate you."

"What. Do. You. Know. About. Your. Parents'. Work."

"Well, my dad's a doctor of animal studies. He and my Uncle Charlie have been running a study in Romania for the past six years. Before that, he was an Auror, but finally quit when he and Mum were…thirty? Yes, that's right. They're thirty-six. Let's see…well, my Mum used to be an Auror, too. Now she teaches here, and is Head of the MADD in the Ministry. You know, Magical Attack and Defense Department? She works with Sirius Black, and, like I said, she's going to take over as Magistrix when my grandfather retires."

"Weasley," he said, deftly. "You know what I'm talking about."

I gulped at his tone. "They- they- they're still working for the Ministry. With-with Uncle Harry."

"Anyone else?" 

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure about Professor Delacour. I saw you two together when I was at home for my grandparents' party, so if you're working with my Mum and Dad, then I guess you're working together. But, if you were working with my parents, then you wouldn't be threatening me, would you?" 

"I am working with your parents, and I am threatening you. Deal with it." 

"Can't you at least answer _some_ of my questions?" I begged. He looked at me, considering it. I glared right back at him, although without so much attitude. Yes, I will admit it; I have learned a thing or two from my sister. When you want something, don't beg too much, don't show attitude, and don't throw a tantrum when you don't get your way. If you act like it doesn't bother you, then parents will be more likely to give you what you want. 

"Do I have a choice?" 

"No."

"Then, no, I won't answer any of your questions."

"Is Professor Delacour working with you and my parents?" I asked him.

He sighed, and said, "Yes."

I paused again. "Are you…are you a Death Eater?" 

He laughed savagely. "No. I swore that I wouldn't follow in my fathers footsteps when I witnessed him kill my mother. The Ministry didn't see what I did, though, and, according to them, it's like father, like son. No, I would never be one of those…those monsters."

"Erm…what killed Dr. Curtis?" I asked cautiously.

"Didn't you see that bloody huge spider?" he asked me, eyebrows raised.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Honestly, Weasley, ask better questions if you want to get anywhere in life."

_I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…_

"What are the…well, what are all of you protecting Hogwarts from?" 

"Death Eaters."

Ask a stupid question…

"Well, I bloody well knew that, but, the point is, _why_ are you protecting Hogwarts from them?" 

He smiled ruefully. "You'd like to know that, wouldn't you?" 

I nodded. 

"Well," he said quietly, leaning forward. I sat on the edge of my chair with anticipation. "Well…too bad." I sat back with a _humph!_. 

"Anything else?" he asked me.

"Can I go eat dinner now?" 

"Get out of here."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Bye."

"Weasley, I'm serious. Don't. Mention. It."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**(AN: This is the Ron part)**

I paced back and forth, in my wife's office- something that I wasn't accustomed to doing. I hadn't seen my son at lunch that day, but his friends had been there. Worrying came with my newfound sense of responsibility that I'd acquired with fatherhood, and I was worried beyond an extent that I had previously thought possible. Worrying tended to be Hermione's area of expertise, but I had gotten pretty damn good at it lately. 

Normally, I'd be thinking, '_So what, Landon didn't come to lunch,' _but not this year. Any carefree attitude that I had about sending my son to school was no longer in tact. Truth was, he would be in danger wherever he went. The trick to parenting was not letting him know about it. I think that he was too perceptive not to notice, though. He does take after my Mione, and there was no way that she'd miss as big hints as those that he had. 

I knew that I hadn't been there for him as much as I should have been lately. This case (and Jack) was taking its' toll on everything, most importantly, Hermione and my love life. Hermione said that we had more important things to be worrying about than sex, but I couldn't think of anything. Sure, Hogwarts could be under siege any days now, and Dumbledore's possibly being murdered, but I'm only human! It's amazing that after all of these years, I'm still head over heels about my wife. She still can take my breath away when she walks into a room, or when she smiles at me for no reason. 

I sat down at her desk, looking through the case files until my attention is drawn by a set of framed pictures that surround the edge of her desk. I see the picture of her, Harry and I on our last day of Hogwarts, arm in arm.  I see the picture of the three of us, once again, at our wedding, the picture of Landon and James, trying to tie their shoes, a picture of Emily and me- Emily, who's probably one, is sleeping on my chest, and I'm asleep with _Quidditch Illustrated_ (featuring the Cannons on the cover) laying across my chest and her diapered bum. Hermione loves that picture, and I do too. Emily's insane red curls are everywhere, and my fingers are intertwined in them, just like I love to do with Hermione's hair (only in quite a different context). I continued to stare at the pictures on her desk, caught up in how wonderful my life is. Er…was. Before this year. 

I slip off my shoes and put my feet up on her desk, leaning back in the very comfortable leather chair with a file lying open on my knees. One by one, I begin to read through the papers, theories, details and profiles. Slowly, this all begins to make less sense. I know what I have to do- I have to cross over into Mione-World. I walked over to her bookshelf, and find the newest copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ on the shelf. Sitting down at her desk again, I began leafing through the pages until I find what it is that I'm looking for: 

_Although it has been said that the origin and/or originators of magic is unknown, many scholars believe that both of these can be linked back to Hogwarts. The Hogwarts Theory states that Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor were the originators of magic, as no record is found before the time of the infamous four. They set up Hogwarts, then, as an institution of learning this newfound skill, selecting only students that modeled the qualities of themselves._

_The student selection process has been simple: those with magic acceptable at the level of Hogwarts performance are offered a position at the school. This brings up a question, though. What gives some people the ability to do magic, and others, namely Muggles, no abilities whatsoever? What triggers one's magic, be it DNA, imagination, intelligence or wits? It is believed, in the Hogwarts Theory, that all magical folk are related to the infamous four either directly  (only in rare cases are magical people directly related to the founders of Hogwarts) or indirectly. _

_Direct relations are those in the direct line of descendents from Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Indirect relations, however, are believed to be those people who are now referred to as "old wizarding families". The Hogwarts Theory believes that these are people who were commonly known to the four founders and had magic transferred to them through the infamous four. This theory still has many holes in it, but is the most widely accepted. _

Who comes up with this, really? Who spends their time sitting around and pondering this? Can't was just let things be? I'm fine with the way things are…sort of. I set the book on the desk, and pick up some of the files that I was previously looking at, trying to sort things out in relation to what I had just read. I crossed my ankles, putting my right leg on top of left and took a swig of my coffee as the door to the office opened and Hermione walked in. She was a bit surprised to see me, and I offer her a weak smile before returning to my reading. She picks up _Hogwarts: A History_, and instantly duplicates the page that I was looking at before depositing the book back on the shelf. She walked over to the desk and pinched my big toe.

"No feet on the furniture," she says in a would-be stern voice. I just give her a look that says, 'oh, please'. She perches lightly on the arm of the chair, and the familiar glint in her eye tells me that, once again, we're going to play the little joke that never gets old between us. I really don't know when or where it all started, but it still somewhat of nostalgia to us. She slid onto my lap, and her smile told me exactly what she was going to say next. 

"Ron?" She's very funny when she tries to be promiscuous. It doesn't really work for her, because I can't get over the image of her as an eleven-year-old, lugging around books. 

"Hmm?" I ask, pretending not to notice the beautiful woman who's sitting on me.

"Is there a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" 

I smile sheepishly at her, before I reach down to pull said wand out of my pocket and show it to her. "There's a wand in my pocket," I said, before kissing her. She pulled back with a little smile, but turned serious again. 

"Ron," she said, in a serious tone. I looked up at her. "I'm worried about Landon." 

I sighed, and said, "So am I. But listen, Mione, we can't do anything else. We've told him that he can't be around after curfew anymore; we've taken away the invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. He knows better than to disobey rules."

"I know, I…I'm just afraid that if he goes poking around he…he won't like what he finds. _I _won't like what he finds. He's in over his head," she said, leaning into my chest and resting her head on my shoulder.

"I know." I tightened my grip around her waist and gently rubbed her knee with my other hand, files haphazardly fallen to the floor. "We can't protect him forever," I whispered into her hair while planting a kiss on the top of her head. I knew that it would be hard for her to hear. It was hard for me to say.

"I want to," she said after a moment of silence. 

"Me too."

I closed my eyes, resting my chin against the top of her head. It's these moments that I love sharing with Hermione- moments when neither of us has to talk, and we just sit there, basking in the presence and closeness of each other. 

I couldn't keep my mind off of Landon, though. I just wondered what would happen if he found out something that could harm him, and, no doubt, would. If he found out that we were working with a convicted Death Eater…well, he wouldn't be able to believe it. He wouldn't want to hear that Malfoy was innocent. Hell, _I_ didn't want to hear that Malfoy was innocent. 

But, as much as I hated to, I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. Hermione and I had warned Landon that he'd better not go snooping where he didn't belong, and that it would only lead to trouble. We knew that he was disobeying us, but now, it seemed that he'd made his own bed to lie in. 

I drew in the scent of Hermione's hair. The shampoo scent of this month was lavender. I gently kissed the top of her head again, and she sighed contentedly. 

"I love you," I told her. 

She nestled her head into my chest, again, sighing happily. "I love you, too." 

Before I knew it, we had both fallen into a much-deserved sleep. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**(AN: Ron's Part is done.)**

James and Charlotte sat on the edge of their seats in the common room late that night when I ignored Draco's remark of 'don't mention it' and explained everything to my friends. Charlotte nearly screamed when I told them about Dr. Curtis. It was kind of cool to be the hero. 

"What should we do?" James asked, surprising me.

"I thought that you wanted nothing to do with it?" I said to him. He shrugged. 

"Dude," he said, "You find a dead guy in the woods, and I'm on your side. I think that we need the invisibility cloak back. And the map."

Charlotte nodded her agreement, and said, "But how are we going to get it? Your parents took it away." 

"I'll be right back!" I said, jumping up and running to the first years' dormitory. I rummaged through my trunk until I found a little tin filled with Floo powder that I'd smuggled out of the house on my way home from Christmas holidays. James and Bronte were surprised, but impressed that I was about to disobey the rules.

"James," I said to him, "If they were in your house, where would they be?" 

James thought for a moment as I contemplated the same question but in relation to my house. I decided that they would either be in my parents' bedroom or in the safe in the kitchen.  

"In my parents' room, there's a loose floorboard under their bed. My dad puts 'secret' stuff in there when he doesn't want anybody else to find it," he said. I nodded, and before either of them could stop me, I threw the Floo powder into the fire and stepped through the flames to my house.


	11. Chapter Nine, ct'd

James and Charlotte sat on the edge of their seats in the common room late that night when I ignored Draco's remark of 'don't mention it' and explained everything to my friends. Charlotte nearly screamed when I told them about Dr. Curtis. It was kind of cool to be the hero. 

"What should we do?" James asked, surprising me.

"I thought that you wanted nothing to do with it?" I said to him. He shrugged. 

"Dude," he said, "You find a dead guy in the woods, and I'm on your side. I think that we need the invisibility cloak back. And the map."

Charlotte nodded her agreement, and said, "But how are we going to get it? Your parents took it away." 

"I'll be right back!" I said, jumping up and running to the first years' dormitory. I rummaged through my trunk until I found a little tin filled with Floo powder that I'd smuggled out of the house on my way home from Christmas holidays. James and Bronte were surprised, but impressed that I was about to disobey the rules.

"James," I said to him, "If they were in your house, where would they be?" 

James thought for a moment as I contemplated the same question but in relation to my house. I decided that they would either be in my parents' bedroom or in the safe in the kitchen.  

"In my parents' room, there's a loose floorboard under their bed. My dad puts 'secret' stuff in there when he doesn't want anybody else to find it," he said. I nodded, and before either of them could stop me, I threw the Floo powder into the fire and stepped through the flames to my house.

*

It was barely past eleven o'clock, but our house was silent. I crept up the stairs, hoping that Mum and Dad wouldn't be awake, and wishing that I were a seventh year who would know how to perform invisibility spell. I crept past Jack's room, and I heard him stir from within. He stood up, and cocked his head to the side.

"Yemen?" 

I walked quietly into the room. "Shhh…" I said in a futile attempt to quiet him. "Shhh…it's a game. You have to be quiet." 

He nodded solemnly, and demonstrated his profound loyalty by sealing his lips shut tightly. 

"Good," I whispered. "Don't talk, now, all right?" 

He nodded again, and I turned my back to him and left the room. I walked further down the hall, and stopped in front of my parents' room, pressing my ear to the door. I heard nothing but the sound of Dad's light snoring. I was about to push open the door, when Dad's snoring was interrupted for a moment. No sooner had it stopped, but started again, and I figured that he must have just…turned over, or something.   

_Please, let them have clothes on…_I thought as I pushed open the door. What a sure-fire way to land a kid in therapy for the rest of his life, besides a workaholic mother, naturally. I opened the door silently, hand covering my eyes, just for good measure. I slit my fingers open a crack, just to be on the safe side, and heaved a sigh of relief to see that both of my parents were clothed, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because people who aren't Eskimos sleep with blankets in the winter time. 

I walked silently through the room, not knowing where to look first. Their closets may have been a reasonable venture, but that meant crossing in front of their bed. It didn't look like I had any other choice, though, so I crept across the room. No sooner had I passed their bed, but Dad stirred and sat up, reaching under his pillow for his wand. I quickly dove through the nearest door, which turned out to be Mum's dressing room. I love coincidences.  

"What's wrong, Ron?" I heard Mum say in a very sleepy voice. 

Dad was still looking around, because he didn't answer right away. "Nothing, I just…nothing. Go back to sleep, Mione." 

"All right. You'll tell me if you think something's wrong again, won't you?" 

Dad chuckled softly. "Yes. And you'll tell me next time that you know I'm lying, won't you?" 

"Ron, I _always_ know when you're lying. You're not any good at it. Good night," she said, and I didn't hear them anymore…except for Dad's snoring. I looked around the dressing room, careful not to make any noise. I never knew that my mother had so many clothes. Honestly, why didn't she just buy three outfits, wash them, and wear them over. Things would be so much simpler that way. I wasn't able to turn anything up in her closet, and probably wouldn't have been able to find anything even if I tried in Dad's closet, which was considerably smaller and messier. Mum's was organized by colour, season, brand name, and style. Dad's clothes, however, were just hanging. His shoes were just in a pile, and I was surprised that he was even able to find a matching pair. 

I continued on, searching throughout the house, but nothing turned up. I couldn't stay in our house forever, so I quietly lifted the vase of Floo Powder from the mantle, and tossed it into the fire, before walking out into the Potters' house. 

All right, so maybe it _is_ breaking and entering, and maybe it _is_ illegal. But it's only Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, I mean, seriously, how much are they going to care that I'm stealing two irreplaceable possessions and heirlooms from their house? 

I heard voices coming from the kitchen and dove behind a settee. Light poured into the dark living room, casting eerie shadows on the floor. 

"I dunno," came a familiar voice, the sound resonating from a familiar kitchen. It was evident that this familiar voice was coming from a well-known silhouette. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Someone knows, Harry, I could have _sworn_ there was someone in my room tonight." 

"All right," came another voice, silhouette showing him leaning against a counter, nursing a mug of coffee. "So, let's say that someone _did_ know. How would they have found out? How would they know that we're involved?" 

"Come on, how could we _not_ be involved in something this huge?" Dad asked. 

Pause.

Uncle Harry spoke again, running his fingers through his already messy hair and heaving a sigh, "Did you tell Hermione?" 

Dad yawned. "Yeah. She knew that something was bothering me, and tonight…when I thought that someone was there…she think that they'll attack. Soon." Dad, like me, was having some problems piecing his thoughts together tonight. Perhaps it was the hour, or perhaps his brain was running on overload as well as mine. 

"I agree with her," said Uncle Harry. "The timing is perfect. It all fits." 

At least _someone_ knew what was going on.

"Hmmm… she's at home with Jack now, but I wish she were here to sort things out. I didn't want to leave Jack alone, though, sleeping or not," Dad said. 

"It was never a problem with Landon and Emily," Uncle Harry said with a chuckle. "Or Evie, James and Rachel." 

All right, so my parents left me alone when I was a baby. This was turning out to be just a wonderful night, next thing, I'll find out that I was conceived in a broom closet at Hogwarts or something. _Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew…_

"Just tell her to bring Jack over," said Uncle Harry. "We still have the nursery; just crash here for the night." 

"Are you sure it's not a big deal? You've had to put up with Em's non-stop Quidditch talk all night," said Dad. I guess that Emily was sleeping over? That wouldn't have been unusual; the little girls had a sleepover at least once a week, it seemed.  

"Come on, Ron," my uncle said. "Do you think I'd rather have Hermione and Jack be in very real danger? And actually, Emily makes for very good Quidditch conversation. I think that you need to get her some dolls."

"We've tried," Dad said, "But she always dresses them in Cannons robes, and puts them on broomsticks. Otherwise, she's yanking off their heads."

Uncle Harry laughed, and said, "It's no problem; Ginny's asleep, anyway." Dad chuckled and stood up. This was _not_ good. I would have to move _and fast_ if I wanted to see my twelfth birthday. I wished that I could apparate. 

As Dad appeared in the doorway, I scrambled around the side of the couch and hid in between an armchair and the wall. I heard as he threw Floo Powder into the fire to speak to a very sleepy Mum, and she and Jack were soon in the living room as well. 

"Honestly, Ron," said Mum through a yawn, "If you were only going to wake me up fifteen minutes later, then why did you tell me to go back to sleep?" 

Dad lifted a limp and sleeping Jack from her arms. He stirred a bit, and opened his eyes as Dad took him from the room while Mum and Uncle Harry sat down. From over Dad's shoulder, Jack spotted me. I put my finger to my lips, praying that the gods of silence would be smiling on me tonight. 

Jack lifted his sleepy head before softly saying, "Yemen," with a little wave. 

Bloody hell. How typical.

I quickly ducked down further behind the chair as all of the adults looked at my hiding spot.

"Yes, sweetheart," Mum said wearily. "Yes, that's a picture of Landon." 

Ah, but the gods of dumb luck apparently like me. There was a picture of all of the grandkids sitting on a table just next to my chair. It was taken a few years ago, when I was only nine. James and I were much shorter then, and were sitting in the front, Emily and Rachel on our laps. Dad turned around again to take Jack upstairs to the nursery. 

"They're attacking soon," Mum said. 

"How do you know that?" Uncle Harry asked her.

"Feminine intuition."

"You? Intuitive? Come on, Mione, how do you know?" Uncle Harry and Dad loved teasing Mum. So did I, at that; her reactions were hysterical.

"Fleur said that they'd be attacking from the east. They're hiding in the hills behind Hogsmeade; they'll storm the town, taking prisoners and building their army with the Imperius curse before surrounding Hogwarts. Should be by the end of the month."

"What will they do once they've taken it?" Dad asked, coming down the steps.

"Fleur said that they're taking it for not only scientific purposes to determine the origin of magic and performing several studies on the students, but also to determine how magic is deemed to some and not others- and if it can be taken away. Muggle borns, especially. Young minds are easily corrupted." 

"They'll rebuild an army of neo-death eaters," Dad surmised.

"More powerful than ever," added Uncle Harry. "When parents find out what's happening to their children, they'll stop at nothing to lend their aid."

"Especially when the staff can't. The parents then, including those who run the ministry will be forced to join them or they, and their children, will suffer the consequences," said Mum.

"Kill or be killed," Dad said darkly. "Darwin's survival of the fittest."

"The question is," said Uncle Harry, "what are we going to do about it?" 

"Well," said Mum, yawning again, "As long as Fleur keeps lying to them, we've got at least some element of protection. Time is still running short, though." 

"What about Malfoy?" asked Uncle Harry with dislike in his voice. 

"He's still working on it. He doesn't trust Fleur." 

"_I _don't trust Fleur," said Mum, "But we haven't any other choice, have we? I don't trust Draco, at that, either. The man's trouble." 

"You just said it yourself, Nee, we haven't any other choice," said Dad. "He knows what he's doing, though. Think of who he grew up with."

"But leaving the fate of our children in the hands of a man that we hate?" It was evident that this had been bothering her for quite some time. 

"I know," I don't like it either, but we have no other choice." 

"Fine."

…

Twas the night before peril, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…although there _was_ this boy who was very scared, confused, and trapped in an uncomfortable position behind a chair that was _far_ too close to a wall for comfort. When he woke the next morning, still in the same position, he found that no one was around, and his legs had gone permanently numb. 

I looked at the clock on the mantle, and saw that it was three a.m. I crawled out from behind the chair, which was quite an odd sensation, because of the pins and needles in my dead legs. Silently, I crept upstairs and found my way to Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's room. They would both still be asleep; it was still dark out. I silently pushed their door open and army-crawled to their bed, which was very high off of the ground. I managed to crawl under without making much noise, and located the loose floorboard with little trouble, aside from my stomach being rug-burned. Soon I was ably to pry it open, and pulled out the invisibility cloak. As well as the cloak, there were tons of pieces of parchments. I sifted through wills, deeds, and finally, I found the decrepit Marauder's Map. 

Getting back downstairs was going to be a challenge. The fire had been put out before everyone went to bed just an hour ago, and I hadn't brought my wand with me in my haste. I decided that I would just…borrow Dad's wand; perhaps it would work for me. I snuck out of the room, and my aunt and uncle never knew that I had been there. I slipped the invisibility cloak over my head, and found my way to the guest rooms, eliminating each with an opening of the door. Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were pretty rich, similar to our wealth; I guess you could say. They're house was about the same size as our old house, the one without terrifying monsters, but our new one, the one with scaly things that like to eat redheaded little boys, was much larger than theirs. Using the process of elimination, I found the guest room that Mum and Dad were staying in. Dad's wand was clearly lying on the bedside table. I snatched it quickly and silently, before turning around and darting out of the room just as quickly. Once back in the living room, I set a blueball fire into the hearth, and set Dad's wand nicely on the kitchen table before heading back to Gryffindor tower, treasures in tow. 

* * *

James shook me roughly at eight thirty that morning. I had an insane crick in my neck and an invisibility cloak under my pillow. All three of us waited for something to happen, but…nothing did. Not for two months. We had nothing to investigate, no need for an invisibility cloak or Marauder's Map (although James and I did sneak into Honeydukes). The only thing that had happened was my improving upon my theory parchment: 

Key People

_Mum (Hermione Granger-Weasley)_- working for the Ministry, undercover at Hogwarts? Not making sense, she's been teaching here for years and has been retired as an Auror for a while, too. 

_Dad (Ron Weasley)- _working with the Ministry on the same case as Mum? 

_Uncle Harry Potter_- working with the Ministry on the same case as Mum and Dad?

_Uncle Sirius Black_- Case Director?

_Peter Pettigrew_- Bad guy? After evading Azkaban he rejoined Death Eaters and is now serving as the Dark Lord's (albeit, he's dead) liaison?** Leading DE's**

_Professor Delacour- _Working on the same case as everyone else? Either double-crossing them, or a double agent? Or, she's double-crossing the Death Eaters? **Working on the good side, and as a double agent- lying to DE's, and feeding the proper information to the Ministry. **

_Draco Malfoy-??? _**Somehow protecting everyone from DE's evil plan. Father was DE, so he must also serve as a 'character witness'. **

Missing Pieces

_What the hell is this case anyway? All I know is that something is wrong, and all of those people have something to do with it. _

**When will they attack? **

**Professor Dumbledore?**

**Alexander Curtis?**

Other Theories

_1. __Peter Pettigrew looks like a Mouse_

_2. __Mum is somehow protecting the school. Perhaps Prof. D. was sent here to spy and find a right time for the D.E.'s to attack. Note: why would they want to attack?_

_3. _**DE's attacking Hogwarts to determine the origin of magic and kill Muggle-borns, trick parental units into fighting, and rebuild army. **__

Two months of doing nothing got pretty boring. I had finally passed Charlotte by a whole ten points in the class standings, take that; Jack had learned to say my name properly; Professor Dumbledore was still in the hospital wing with a stable condition- not good, not bad; Mum had become Headmistress, and had begun writing a book about her, Uncle Harry and Dad during their Hogwarts books. 

Who would want to read a book about them, I ask you? Honestly. 

**Author's Note****: I'm sorry, this chapter wasn't very long, or up to its' usual humour standard. It was necessary to answer a lot of questions that Landon, and I'm sure, you all had. The rest will be better, I promise! I'm guessing that there will be three or four left. Review! **


	12. Chapter Ten

I walked out of the Great Hall with James and Charlotte one day at the end of March. For some odd reason, James was getting in trouble…again. Professor McGonagall was quite livid, which was probably justifiable. James had this habit of misusing the Marauder's Map. For instance, last night, he had snuck down to the kitchen and brought all of us guys some ice cream. Charlotte then proceeded to sneak into our dormitory and pig out with us. Anyway, James had somehow found out, which I wasn't surprised about. Whatever you do, somehow, some way, Minerva McGonagall _will_ find out. 

"I'll see you guys later," James called to us as Professor McGonagall was dragging him away to her office. Charlotte shrugged at me, sending a smile in my direction. 

"Wanna finish off that ice cream?" she asked me. We had put the leftovers under a freezing charm and left them in one of the armoires in my dormitory.

"Bronte! I'm surprised at you, woman! If we keep this up, you're going to have to go on a diet, you know," I told her. There was absolutely _no _way that she could take that in the wrong way. No matter how much Charlotte ate, she would still be stick skinny. 

"I know," she said, hanging her head; voiced laced with melancholy, "I almost broke the scale in the girls' dormitory last night, Landon. Baby whales are starting to think of me as one of their sisters. I just can't handle this anymore." 

I laughed at her, and she gave me a shove, which I promptly returned. 

"No ice cream for you!" I told her.

"Hey! It's my ice cream, too!"

"But, Bronte, you forget that _technically_, you're not allowed in the boys' dormitory. I would hate for someone to find you eating illegal food in an illegal location."

"Oh, this is so…forbidden!" she said in an excited whisper. This girl definitely read too many romance novels, because if she got so worked up over 'forbidden' ice cream, I hate to see what she would be like when she was 'in love' or something. I mean, come on, what would she do with her boyfriend on a 'hot night'. _Sweetheart…_I could picture her saying in a rather lusty voice, _Let's…let's…let's go steal ice cream from the kitchens! Why? Oh, to eat in secret, silly! Isn't it exciting! It's…forbidden…_Her poor boyfriend would probably be sitting there, feeling rather snubbed. I know that I'd be irked if I thought that my girlfriend wanted to…never mind.   

I rolled my eyes at her, and she shoved me again. Once we arrived at the tower, I went up to the boys' dormitory and retrieved the invisibility cloak after making sure that no one was there. I snuck it down to Charlotte, who was hiding in a dark corner. Slipping it over her head, she followed me back up the stairs and into the dormitory, where I promptly locked the door behind us. I opened the wardrobe and the two of us grabbed spoons, leaned against the back of my bed and succumbed to the world of brain-freezes. 

Bronte nudged me with her shoulder. "So you've got the hots for Finnigan, eh?" 

I sprayed ice cream out of my nose, which was a very strange experience. "What? What makes you think that? Of course not!" She gave me a look. Damn. "All right, so maybe a little. Maybe a lot."

She laughed at me, and I put my head on my knees. "Is it _that _obvious? Please say no." 

"Not really, I can just tell. I know you. It's obvious to me. I'm a girl, you know." 

"Really? I didn't, actually."

"Shut up." 

"You."

"You." 

"Fine," I said. Of course, I wasn't letting it go like that. I dipped my spoon in the ice cream again, and proceeded to smear it on her nose. 

"No, you didn't just do that."

"OK, I didn't." 

We sat there, still eating ice cream. 

"So, does Fiona like you?" she asked me. 

"I dunno…does she ever talk about me?" I asked her, trying to appear nonchalant about it, when really, I could have bit all of my fingernails and fingers waiting for her to answer. 

"I guess," she said with a shrug. "Only as much as I talk about you." 

"Oh. Is that a lot?" 

She shrugged again. "I guess. I mean, how much do friends talk about each other," she said through a mouthful of ice cream. That was pretty gross to watch. 

"So, then, how much _do_ friends talk about each other? Just out of curiosit-"

James ran into the room and slammed the door shut, throwing his full weight against it, panting hard and wearing a terrified look on his face. 

"Charlotte!" he said, "Get under the bed! Go!" He pushed her under the bed, despite her protests and threw the ice cream underneath. All in one motion, he grabbed a comic book from his bedside table and jumped on the bed, flipping open the book and pretending to be deep in the world of _Martin Miggs. _I followed suit, hopping onto my own bed with _Hogwarts: Yet Another Revised History_. No sooner had I discovered that I was reading it upside down than my mum, Head of Gryffindor House, walked in. 

"All right, boys," she said, "James, you've heard. Landon, we're checking all of the dormitories for food because _someone_," she shot James a look, "has been sneaking down to the kitchen. Oh, and Charlotte?" she lifted the bedspread of James's bed. "You can come out, dear, I know that you're down there." Charlotte crawled out, shamefacedly. 

"You can bring the ice cream out, too," Mum added. Charlotte handed over the spoons, and Mum shook her head, smiling as she left the room. 

"Don't do it again," she told us. "And, Charlotte, go to your _own_ dormitory before I see you in here."

"Professor, you're…?" 

"Don't ask questions when you're being offered mercy, dear. I've snuck into many a boys' dormitory in my time." 

James and I snorted with laughter and Charlotte's eyes grew wide. 

"No, no, no, not like that!" Mum said. "No, I mean…never mind." She turned and left, shaking her head, and trying to work out what had just happened, so it seemed. The three of us were left in the dormitory, also trying to work out what had just happened. My mother had let Charlotte disobey a rule. There was a distinct chill coming from the general direction of hell. 

*

"So, man, I was thinking of asking Charlotte out," said James. 

"What? Bronte?" I asked him. 

"Dude! She's a piece of ar-"

"James," I said, interrupting what I knew he was going to say, and not wanting to hear it, "All right, so, I'm going to sound like one of your parents, but I think that it makes sense. We're eleven years old. Why do you have to go out with Charlotte now? Come on, she's your best friend. Do you want to screw things up? If you guys start going out now, then I can guarantee you; you won't be speaking to each other by fourth year. Is that what you want?" 

"Thanks, Landon," James said, "You're right. You do sound like my parents." He got up and left the library, and I followed after him. I seriously hadn't _meant_ to get him mad, but come on. We had another six years, why'd he have to go out with Bronte now? 

Jealous? No…Maybe…Yes…

I followed him into the Great Hall where everyone was assembled for lunch. Both of us took seats on either side of Charlotte. 

I was just working on ignoring James without actually ignoring him, when someone dressed completely in black from head to toe, minus the platinum blond hair, walked in. I knew that this wasn't good. Malfoy wouldn't be here unless he had to be here, considering that he despised everyone. 

"Come on," I said to James and Charlotte. "Come on, let's go." They saw the alarm in my face and immediately grabbed their books, standing up to follow me out of the Great Hall. We raced down the hallway, and I decided that I had to get an owl to my dad. Getting in trouble wasn't a big deal to me anymore; I couldn't let my classmates die. If Dad, Uncle Harry and Professor Delacour could stop things before it started, then maybe we might have a chance. 

As we ran past the staff room, I saw that the door was somewhat ajar, and a familiar voice was talking from inside. 

"You go on," I said to James and Charlotte. "Send an owl to my dad." 

They ran on to the owlery, and I stayed, listening to Professor Delacour talking to someone on a magical cellular phone, similar to my father's. 

"Yes, sair…no, ze only complications zat I've 'ad is zat Weasley brat…'e trusts me, yes…well, zat's what he zinks…meddling, sair…I'll take care of zem; zey von't know vat 'it zem…yes sair, zey should be on ze move within ze 'our…yes, sair…goodbye." 

I quickly ran down the hallway, not wanting to be caught by this horrid woman. I watched as she made her way to the Great Hall, and as soon as I could no longer hear her footsteps, I ran at top speed to my dormitory, retrieving the Map and the invisibility cloak. James and Bronte were nowhere to be found, but I thought that that was best. If they couldn't be found, then Death Eaters couldn't capture them. I slipped on the cloak, and ran back down to the Great Hall, hiding in the shadows as I watched the scene that played out in front of me. 

Professor Delacour was sitting at the staff table, calmly sipping her tea, as if she had done nothing and betrayed no one. I was filled with a rage that just…pissed me off. I had trusted her. My parents had trusted her. The Ministry had trusted her. She had betrayed us all, and would be handing us over to the darkest force on the earth. The words of Mum and Dad filled my head as I thought of what they would do to us.

Kill or be killed…the survival of the fittest…kill or be killed… 

I was most definitely not one of the fittest. I was a first year, who could barely duel. I didn't know anything about defending myself against dark wizards, who were fully trained. Certainly, I was book-smart. But that meant nothing when it came to physically defending yourself. 

Mum was talking off to the side with Malfoy in hushed whispers. The students seemed to have sensed that something was wrong, for all of their voices had hushed to a lull as well. The lack of sound was interrupted by a man walking into the room, dressed from head to toe in black as well, minus the flaming red hair. Students seemed to brighten up as they saw my father enter the Hall. For some reason, he had always brought hope to people, and even when they didn't know him, he had acted as somewhat of a father figure to the kids who were homesick, scared, or orphaned. 

He strode up to Mum and removed his sunglasses. Typical of my dad. Trying to look sexy or something by wearing sunglasses inside. Despite the escalating disaster, Dad still kissed Mum hello and cast a glare at Draco Malfoy. Within seconds, Uncle Harry was in the Great Hall as well, wearing the same type of outfit as the other two men. Of course, Uncle Harry's looked much more threatening, because of his black hair. Some students even looked scared, but they didn't know the good-natured and fun-loving Uncle Harry that I did. The four of them stood in a circle, continuing the conversation of hushed whispers. Professor Delacour looked up and nodded at something. 

At least twenty Death Eaters, all the size of boulders, stormed into the Great Hall. Students screamed and scrambled out of the way, huddling in little groups off to the edges of the room and under tables. The four adults sprung into action, hurling containment curses at those great lumps. One by one, they were all rooted to the spot, their magic bound, and unable to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste a thing. More or less, they had no control over their bodies. 

"Quick!" said Professor Delacour with a very bad attempt to act, if you ask me, "Muggle-borns, come here! We will be able to protect you better!" The adults looked edgy, but consented to let her separate the students. Slowly, Muggle-born students stood up and began walking to where the adults were standing. 

I couldn't take it anymore. 

"NO!!!" I shouted throwing off the cloak and running up to the adults. This was all done with the Dustin Hoffman/daytime TV melodrama that bad directors love. "No, don't listen to her! Don't you see what she's doing? She's trying to trick you!" 

The adults looked at me like I was insane, which was, given the circumstances, completely warranted. 

Finally, Dad softly said, "Don't talk about things that you don't know, son."

"But, Dad!" I protested. My parents hated talking back. "I _do_ know! I heard her talking! I saw her talking to Peter Pettigrew! She's a liar! Don't listen to her." 

"Landon," warned Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry at the same time.

"_Come on!!! _I'm telling the truth!" 

By this time all of the Muggle-borns had stopped in their tracks and refused to take a step further, whether or not my suspicions were justified. 

Professor Delacour laughed sardonically. "You should have listened to your son, Weasley," she said. Before any of the adults could react, she snapped her fingers and the boulder sized Death Eaters were in control of their senses again. They had seized me, twisting my arm behind my back in a very painful manner, and holding a wand to my throat. 

All of the adults, including the staff, rushed forward in a futile attempt to do something about it. Dad sent a roundhouse kick in the direction of the boulder holding me, and I was released as the man crumpled to the floor. Mum grabbed me, and pushed me protectively behind her as we moved away from the struggle. My curiosity got a hold of me, and I peaked out from around Mum. I saw teachers now all pushed into a circle, surrounded by even more Death Eaters than had previously attacked. Mum and I were still unnoticed towards the outskirts of the room, which was dead silent (no pun intended). 

The silence was broken by the door being flung open and two students rushing in. I groaned. 

"Landon!" Charlotte called. "We tried to-" Their eyes grew wide at the sight before them, and, as if sharing a brain, the two turned and bolted towards the door. The Death Eaters were faster, though. One grabbed Charlotte around her tiny waist, and the other grabbed James by the scuff of his collar. I caught sight of Dad and Uncle Harry. They were both wearing a look of cold fury, and struggling against the boulders/men that were twice their size and constraining them. The brought the two, still struggling, down the steps, and threw them on the ground in front of Mum and I. My mother bent down to help them up, and I could see that Charlotte was nursing a broken wrist. Nevertheless, she managed to slip my mother a piece of paper that went unnoticed to the opposition as Mum slipped it into her pocket. 

Professor Delacour stooped down, and grabbed my mother's wrist, twisting it in a most painful manner, which brought her to a standing position. As soon as the two women were standing levelly, and staring in the other's eye, Professor Delacour dropped Mum's arm. 

"Expeliarmus," she muttered, and my mother's wand flew to her hand, where she promptly snapped it in half. Mum visibly winced. She knew, as well as I did, that she would be nearly helpless without her wand. Professor Delacour snapped her fingers again, and two Death Eaters came to where Mum was standing. 

"Don't you lay a hand on her!" Dad shouted. "I swear; if you so much as lay a finger on her, I'll kill you!" 

As if to prove their point, one of the men brought his fist down, connecting with Mum's jaw. She reeled, and I could see that she was working to keep her face at the impassive state that it was; she was refusing to let tears fall as she straightened up to look the man that had hit her in the eye. 

"Vat are you going to do about it, Weasley?" asked Delacour, taunting him. 

Dad looked like he could have killed her. There was a cold rage brewing behind his eyes that I had never seen before that scared me. It was completely understandable, though. Men were threatening to kill the woman that he loved. 

"As headmistress of this school," Mum said, calmly stepping towards Delacour, "I will not let you harm these children. I trusted you, and you betray me. I have no ties to you anymore, and I'm not above killing you. We killed your master; don't think that we can't do the same to you." 

Fleur looked appalled that Mum would say that to her, considering that with yet another snap of her fingers, my mother's neck could be snapped in half. 

Instead, she turned back to where the staff was surrounded. 

"Bring Weasley," she said. Dad was thrown out of the barricade, and Dad struggled to rush to Mum. Instead, the same boulder man that had hit her held him back. 

"I propose a choice," she said. A boulder man grabbed me by the shoulder, and brought me to stand next to Mum, who looked down and offered me a reassuring, although unbelievable, smile. 

"Weasley, it is time to decide what means more to you. Would you rather 'ave your family alive, or vould you rather prevent a war?" 

Without hesitation, Dad said, "Family."  

"I zee. Well, you will not be able to prevent zis war, Weasley, and your family _will_ die. Ze choice for you is…wife or son?" 

The words echoed in my head as I saw Dad's mind calculating. He looked down, unable to look at either of us. I couldn't look at Mum. She was looking down at the ground, either, unwilling to sway my father's decision. I know what she was thinking. She would rather that I live, and, given the choice, would have given up her own life for me. But it wasn't her choice; it was Dad's. He had to choose between his own flesh and blood or the woman he loved more than life itself. 

"Ron…" Mum whispered. "Choose him. He's got so much of life ahead of him." Dad shook his head and held up his hand in a gesture for Mum to be quiet. He needed to think this out on his own. 

"Well, Weasley? Wife or son?" __


	13. Chapter Eleven

**Author's Note****: Dun dun dun…who will Ron choose? It's quite a pickle. Second to last chapter; right here, Ladies and Gents. This should be completed by the end of this weekend, most likely, and at least the first chapter and preface of Emily's story will be up, too (five of my twelve year old cousins are staying at my house this weekend. I plan on barricading myself in my room and only coming out for meals and the bathroom). Might I just say that this chapter was a very hard one to write. It isn't a light chapter, nor with the typical funniness that Landon (or I, I'm not sure) usually brings into the story. It's an emotionally challenging one for all of the characters, namely Ron and Landon. Of course, Harry and Hermione do see their share of emotional hell, but more so for our favourite redheads I think. I hope that you enjoy it. **

"Bring Weasley," she said. Dad was thrown out of the barricade, and struggled to rush to Mum. Instead, the same boulder man that had hit her held him back. 

"I propose a choice," she said. A boulder man grabbed me by the shoulder, and brought me to stand next to Mum, who looked down and offered me a reassuring, although unbelievable, smile. 

"Weasley, it is time to decide what means more to you. Would you rather 'ave your family alive, or would you rather prevent a war?" 

Without hesitation, Dad said, "Family."  

"I zee. Well, you will not be able to prevent zis war, Weasley, and your family _will_ die. Ze choice for you is…wife or son?" 

The words echoed in my head as I saw Dad's mind calculating. He looked down, unable to look at either of us. I couldn't look at Mum. She was looking down at the ground, either, unwilling to sway my father's decision. I know what she was thinking. She would rather that I live, and, given the choice, would have given up her own life for me. But it wasn't her choice; it was Dad's. He had to choose between his own flesh and blood and the woman he loved more than life itself. 

"Ron…" Mum whispered. "Choose him. He's got so much of life ahead of him." Dad shook his head and held up his hand in a gesture for Mum to be quiet. He needed to think this out on his own. 

"Well, Weasley? Wife or son?"

Eternity passed me by. 

"Wife," Dad whispered. 

"No…" said Mum, "Ron, no!" But it was too late. They threw Mum down on the ground, but she got up again, struggling against the Death Eater that stood in between the two of us. I stood there, appalled, and on the brink of hating my father. 

"Take him away," said Delacour, "And the other two children as well." 

I didn't feel a thing as I was slung over the man's shoulder and carried from the Great Hall, James and Charlotte in tow. I was completely numb, emotionless. I didn't hear Mum's sobs, I didn't see Dad's rage, and I didn't see Uncle Harry's fury or Malfoy's determination. Nothing. All I knew was that I was going to die and that was it. I would never turn twelve, I would never be able to date Fiona, and I would never get to be Head Boy. I would never get married, I would never have children, and I would never get to hear if it was true that Jack could say my name the right way. 

No sooner had I thought of Jack than did I explode with rage. Of course Dad chose me! It was so obvious; he and Mum had already replaced me with Jack! What did they need me for; they already had two children at home. They could have more kids; they could replace me. But Dad would never be able to replace Mum; he was so incredibly devoted to her. It all made perfect sense, and I felt as though I really didn't have anything to live for any longer. My parents didn't care about me, Charlotte was going to die as well, so there would be no more competition to drive my success, and it seemed as if my parents were going to die anyway. 

We were taken outside into the crisp March air, but I didn't feel the cold. It appeared as if Hagrid's hut had been turned into a barricade of sorts, for that's where they threw us. Guards stood outside, and the three of us were stuck. We just sat there for a while, ready to face the fate that had been laid out before us. Charlotte sniffed a bit; I wasn't sure if it was because she was going to be killed, or because of her broken wrist. I was sure that her wrist would have been bothering her anyway, so James and I helped to fashion a splint of sorts with a piece of Hagrid's chair and pillowcase. It worked all right, and I put a numbing charm on her wrist. We lapsed back into silence. 

"Are you scared?" Charlotte asked after a long silence. 

James and I both nodded. 

"But my dad will figure something out," James said, "Don't worry, Char." She nodded bravely, but there were still tears clinging to her eyelashes. 

"Bronte?" I asked. "What was that piece of parchment that you gave my mum?" 

She smiled mischievously. "It was a position of the Death Eaters. We could see them from the owlery- all of their posts, hideouts, every regiment, everything. We intercepted one of their owls with all the details of the attack. Thought it might help." 

I could have kissed her. No, not really, I mean, I wouldn't have, but I _could_ have because I was so happy. Actually kiss her? No…no. 

Bronte was still crying, so I reached into my pocket to find a handkerchief or something. I hated, hated, hated crying girls. Instead of finding a tissue in my robe pocket, though, I found a smooth piece of fabric. I realized that I still had the invisibility cloak. Further examination of my pockets revealed the Marauder's Map, as well as a chocolate frog (for nourishment, you understand- it is my firm belief that one should not go without chocolate for more than a day). 

Of _course _I wouldn't kiss Charlotte! 

I looked down at the cloak in my hands, by all standards, a passage of redemption. What would I do with it? How could I use it? I didn't show it to my friends right away. I knew what they would think- they'd want to come with me and imagine every possible scenario of 'what-ifs' know to man. I didn't want that right now, and most importantly, I wanted to sort things out on my own. 

Damn it, Professor Dumbledore would know what to do. I'm crap at figuring out plans and secret missions. James was the one who had the imagination, but I knew that there was no way that I could tell him. I couldn't. 

Perhaps I could explore a bit, you know, find out what was going on with the Death Eaters and report back to my parents? No, they already knew what was going on, thanks to Charlotte. Perhaps I could have a little fun with Professor Delacour? No, she would figure it out, I'm sure, that I was the one hurling 'curses' at her. Maybe I should just get out of here while I could, and send Malfoy down here for James and Charlotte? Yes, that was probably best. I didn't have to do anything heroic, just make sure that they made it. The three of us could sneak out of here and into the Forbidden Forest, then I could get back up to the school. I could go to the owlery to get word to the Ministry, and then go tell my parents where James and Charlotte would. Certainly with Bronte's broken wrist, we'd be slowed down a bit, and she couldn't stay alone and defenceless. James would _have_ to see the sense in that and stay with her. 

I stopped them from their talking and quickly whispered my plan. We could sneak out the window in the small bathroom, I would go out in the invisibility cloak, since I was the tallest, and hold it up in front of the window so James and Charlotte wouldn't be seen coming out. Brilliant! Once all three of us were out of the house, we jogged to the edge of the forest. This was the part of the plan that I had left out. 

"James," I said, "stay here with Charlotte."

"Landon! We'll freeze!" Charlotte protested. She was already shivering intensely. I hadn't thought of that. I took off my cloak, wearing a long sleeved shirt underneath and handed it to her.  I was going right inside it wouldn't be too cold. That, of course, was assuming that I went right inside. 

"Dude! You can't just leave me here! I want to come!" James was protesting.

"What, and leave Charlotte alone?" 

"Why can't we both come?" 

"She can't come with a wrist like that. The spell's going to wear off in a bit, and she wouldn't be any help to us! No offence, Char. We can't leave her here by herself, either, because she'll be defenceless. If you're both here, then maybe it'll be better." 

James looked utterly dejected. What would Dad do? 

"Look, James, I've made up my mind. I'm going. You can either come with me, thus abandoning your best friend, or you can stay and things will work out for all of us. Your choice." 

He glared at me. 

"Next time I have an adventure," he said, "You can't come." 

"The trees should be a good cover for you; so should the cloak. Perhaps you should bewitch the colour to blend in with the underbrush? That might work better." 

"Newsflash, Landon," said Charlotte, "We haven't got wands." 

Hahaha…funny, Bronte. Only I can get away with saying things like that. 

"Well…well…I dunno, improvise. I'll be back; don't worry," I promised them before slipping the cloak over my head and sprinting off in the direction of the school. What I saw at the gate scared the crap out of me. Dementors. 

_Your father doesn't love you…_was taunting me as I ran past them. I knew that they could see me, but I didn't care. I had to get inside. _Your classmates could be dying right now…Delacour betrayed you…your father doesn't love you…your mother didn't stop him…your father doesn't love you…_ I couldn't take it anymore. This was horrid, and I wanted to die just from hearing it. Tears stung my eyes as the faces of tortured students flashed before my mind's eye, and I never wanted to be safe and at home more in my life. But that was the scariest part of all. I might never be safe at home ever again. 

The door couldn't have opened any slower. It seemed heavier than a hippogriff as I tried to pull it open only far enough for someone as skinny as I to fit through. Although it didn't have to be very wide, it still took a lot of effort. 

I squeezed through, and shut it silently behind me. I made my way to Gryffindor tower to retrieve my wand. The sight before me was terrifying. 

First year students were tied together, like cattle, being led by a Death Eater. The students were sniffling as he whipped them like animals. I caught sight of Fiona. She was very small for her age, and when the Death Eater sent a whip cracking in her direction, she collapsed on the ground, causing the whole group to stop. The Death Eater kicked her when she didn't get up, causing her to double over in pain once again. As much as I wanted to help her, I couldn't. Jessie was feeling the same emotions, I could see. She was sobbing like Fiona was as she saw her best friend beaten. Shackles bound her wrists and feet, and she was also helpless to react. Finally, the Death Eater picked her up by her collar, and commanded the group to keep marching. 

When they were gone, I raced forward, stopping to hide behind suits of armour as similar groups passed me. I remained unnoticed, and slipped into the Common Room. It was abandoned; so retrieving my wand was not a difficult thing to do. I hurried from the Common Room to the owlery, desperate to get help. There was no way that this battle would last for the staff here, especially if the Death Eaters succeeded in gathering more followers in their campaign through Hogsmeade. I found my owl, Calliope, and scribbled a hasty note to my grandfather, also asking him to alert Uncle Sirius. I also sent out James's owl, Pegasus, to Aunt Ginny, explaining to her and asking her to take care of Jack and Emily until this was all sorted out. I wondered if the adults would believe me, and prayed that they would. 

I slipped the cloak over my head once more, and made my way down to the Great Hall.  The staff was all sitting in a clump, talking quietly, with their hands bound behind their backs and feet bound in front of them. I snuck over to where they were, and was close enough to hear Mum and Dad's conversation.

"You'd better have a plan, Ron," Mum said angrily. She was more upset than I had ever seen her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot from crying. "I'll not let my son die. I still can't believe that you did that." 

"I have a plan, Mione, trust me," he said, trying to work out the knot that was binding his wrists. 

"Oh, yes, I'm sure it's brilliant. Just like that last one that you had which landed us here!"

"Listen," Dad said, edgily, "I don't want anything to happen to him, either, but-"

"Oh, yes, _that's _evident. At least I could have fended for myself, Ron; he's a helpless little boy!"

"Yes, but they would have tortured you because you're…well, you! They won't harm him, Mione, don't you see? They're using him as bait." 

"As bait for what?! They've already got us here. Why do they need to lure us to them when we're already tied and bound in their clutches? Honestly, Ron. Just…just get him back. I want him back." 

"I know. Just wait."

"But Ron," Mum protested, tears in her eyes again, "If we wait he could be dead."

"No, I'm not!" I said in their ears. I could see their eyes grow wide, but they remained silent, refusing to give me away. "James and I stole the invisibility cloak back awhile ago; I used it to escape! Here, Dad, I'm untying your hands." 

"Where's James?" Uncle Harry asked urgently; as I moved on to untie his hands.

"He's in the woods with Charlotte. They won't be seen, and they've got my cloak so they won't freeze. Don't worry; they're safe." I moved on to untie Mum's hands, and then Malfoy's. That was when Dad made the mistake of massaging his wrists that had been cut into by the rope for the past two hours- a move that didn't go unnoticed. 

"_Accio_!"   Fleur called. The invisibility cloak flew off my back, and I was visible there, caught red-handed. I hadn't a clue about what to do, until she muttered another word that I was somewhat familiar with.

"_Imperio_." 

I didn't know what was happening to me, but I had to stand up. I didn't care if she saw me, but I just had to. Then, I was overcome an overpowering desire to be near her, so I walked to her.

"_Leviosa_," she said, and I floated inches off the ground so my face was level with hers. "You're trying my patience, boy." I wanted to spit in her face, like they do in cool action movies, but I didn't think that it would be a good idea because 1) it wasn't very gentlemanly, and Mum was in the room. When we got out of this mess, she would, no doubt, punish me for it; 2) this woman actually _would _kill me, whereas James Bond will never die. I wonder what James Bond was like when he was eleven? I bet that I could have beaten him up. Wait…maybe not.

She set me down on the ground hard, and bid me (rather, forced me) to sit in a chair, promptly tying my arms behind the back of the chair, and my feet to the wooden legs of the chair. There was no way that I was going to get out of this one, especially after she put the magical bindings on the ties, which were severely cutting into my ankles.

Fleur went back to talking with Pettigrew about something or another, and I was left there, silently communicating with Mum and Dad. Dad said that he had a plan; Mum said not to worry. I told them that I was brave and could handle it. I wonder if they saw the transparency in that statement. Probably, considering that my forehead was sweaty, I was paler than usual, and my eyes were darting nervously around the room, looking for escape, help or any blunt object that could be used to hit Delacour over the head with. None of them seemed like an option right now. 

"Now," said Delacour, pacing in front of the hostages, "what are we going to do wiz you all? We certainly can't kill all of you…no…zat would be too easy. Imperio." 

Mum stood up, and seemed to be trying desperately hard not to. Professor Delacour brought her a few steps forward, but that's where Mum stopped with a look of tranquil determination on her face. Her breathing was deep and even, and it appeared as if she was willing herself not to give in to the curse. Professor Delacour was enraged, and it appeared as if she were turning purple from trying so hard to bring Mum under the curse. It wasn't working, though. The Professor's grip slackened on her wand, and her features relaxed. 

"Fine," she said. "_Sezius_ _Respito_."   

Mum's face grew terribly white as her breath caught in her throat. _This is how my mother is going to die,_ I thought. She couldn't breathe, and her arms were shaking from lack of oxygen. She seemed determined, though, not to be proven weak. I didn't notice that Dad and Uncle Harry were shouting an insane amount of profanities at Delacour. I was alone with my mother, so it seemed, who was dying right in front of me. I felt helpless, as I'm sure my father did. His hands had been retied, as had mine, and he was left watching this as well. 

I felt tears clouding my eyes as Mum collapsed onto the ground, still alive, but it appeared as if she was slowly losing consciousness. Before I knew what was happening, Delacour had released the curse, and Mum was doubled over, coughing, sputtering and panting for breath. Dad, Uncle Harry and I simultaneously heaved a sigh of relief even as Mum struggled to shake the oblivion away and regain might. 

Delacour laughed, almost happily at the horrible sight that we had just beheld, before saying, "You 'ave seen 'er walk to death's door and back. Now, what does 'til death do us part' really mean to you?" Uncle Harry and Dad stood up, as Mum was lifted and seated into a chair next to mine. Knives, not the typical weapon of choice for a wizard, were held at my throat and Mum's. Dad inhaled deeply, his face filled with terror, no longer 'playing it cool'. 

The two men were thrown wands, as Mum and I sat there, entirely too tense for our own good. Wand in hand, Dad stepped forward, the same cold fury in his eyes that I had seen before, but stopped when he saw the knife tighten near Mum's throat. It was that cold fury in his eyes that told me that he would stop at nothing, so long as the two of us were alive. When I saw that, I knew that he really did know what he was doing when he chose Mum over me. It had nothing to do with him being heartless, or not loving me. No, he was the best father that anyone could ask for, and he didn't intend on letting me die at all. But now, he was faced with that reality again, and I didn't think that anything would stand in his way. Even his best friend. 

"Duel," commanded Delacour. 

Dad and Uncle Harry looked at her blankly. 

"Excuse me?" asked my uncle sceptically; sure that he could not have heard her properly. 

"Duel," she repeated. "Weasley, do you want your family alive? I let them live if Potter dies. It's as simple as that. Buy their freedom with 'is death. Either way you choose, you can't win, and I do. It's up to you."

"Why are you doing this?" Dad asked her, darkly. He didn't seem to care that tears of frustration, pain and hate could be seen swimming in his eyes. It seemed that with only one word, he would break and they would come pouring. I couldn't even begin to imagine how this was killing him inside. 

"Free will," she said. "Ze 'uman nature betrays us all, which is why I'm so grateful zat I 'ave no 'eart to speak of. Ze 'eart is ze worst enemy of all. So, ze question is zis: which is stronger, your loyalty and love for your family, or your loyalty and love for your friend?" 

You could almost hear Dad's heart break. He stood there, not wanting to move, not wanting to think, not wanting to go through with what he was about to. 

"What if I refuse to duel?" Dad asked. "What will happen then?" 

"Please, Weasley, need you ask? Death is ze only outcome in every scenario. Choose."

"And if I die?" he asked. "If I die, you'll let them live?" 

She smiled. "Zere's a penalty for defeat, Weasley. If you die, so does ze rest of your family, Potter, and 'is children. You cannot win, so I've said." 

Dad looked at Uncle Harry. It had always been my opinion that the two men had somewhat of an uncanny mental telepathy, just as James and I did. It ran in the family, I thought, and usually, I could tell what they were thinking as well. This time, though, I was completely lost. 

"Duel," Dad said. "We'll duel." 

I was half expecting Mum to jump in with a valiant _No, Ron! You can't; we'll die! Take us instead! _Had the decision not have involved me, then I have no doubt that she would have. She had always been the only person to fully understand the facets of her two best friends' friendship, and how deep the water ran. Even Aunt Ginny didn't fully understand, but that was all right, it seemed. She wasn't meant to. It was only for the three of them to know. 

"Good, good," Pettigrew said, making his first sound since I had seen him. "I have been waiting for this day for quite some time. Potter, Weasley and Granger will meet their end here."

I couldn't take it anymore, I just couldn't. I wanted to tear the man to shreds and make sure that he would regret how he was destroying everything that my parents had ever worked for, right down to their own lives. 

"Begin."

In typical duels that I had seen, the duellers would circle each other like cats, ready for the pounce, eyes daring the other to make their move. Not this time, though. Dad and Uncle Harry stood facing each other, eyes expressing the most deep and utter sadness that I had ever seen in my life. There weren't any words, as there doesn't tend to be with men, and yet, somehow, they were saying everything. I had never seen either of them this intense, but somehow, they knew what they had to do. Uncle Harry lowered his wand arm, and dropped to his knees, head bowed. I knew what that was. It was the sign of defeat, much like raising a white flag. He was exposing the back of his neck, clearly allowing Dad to kill him. 

"_Crucio_!" came from countless voices in the room. I tensed, waiting for the knife to slice through my neck, but it never did. Instead, I felt the ropes around my hands and ankles slacken, and saw Mum shaking hers free. Professor Delacour was lying on the ground, writhing in pain. I saw that the origin of that pain was coming from Dad, Uncle Harry and Malfoy. This was confusing. Apparently, everyone had been to busy taking in the sight in front of them to notice that no one had rebound Malfoy's hands. He had, somehow, managed to make his way over to where Mum and I were being held and untie our hands without being noticed. Don't ask me how this all happened, but somehow, it did. This was sooooooooo bloody confusing that even _I _couldn't work it out. Death Eaters sprang to action as Mum grabbed my hand and pulled me from the room, picking up a wand from the forsaken pile. 

"What about them?" I asked her as we ran up the steps.

"They'll be fine," she told me, pulling open the large oak doors. We raced through the hallways, and I was very surprised that Mum could keep up with me. She was full of surprises, though, especially when she turned around on reflex, it seemed, to curse the Death Eater that I didn't even hear behind us. 

"Where are they?" she asked, once we were outside of the school. 

"Over there!" I said pointing to the edge of the Forest. I held my breath as we ran. In order to get there, we had to pass Dementors. I didn't want to see my parents dying in my head; I didn't want to go. But Mum kept running, and as we passed them, sent a glittering thing shooting from her wand, which kept them away from us. We made it to the Forest safely, and James and Charlotte were never so glad to be caught out of bounds in their life. Without a blink of an eye, Mum healed Charlotte's wrist. 

From the angle we were at, we could see in the large windows of the Great Hall. Sparks were flying, and the yelling carried down to our location at the edge of the Forest. Charlotte jumped up and down as she saw Aurors from the Ministry running to the school. Mum turned to me in wonder. 

"Did you do that?" she asked me, breathless. I nodded, and before I knew what was happening, I practically had the wind knocked out of me by a bone-shattering hug. 

"Mum…" I croaked out, "I can't breathe…" 

"Sorry," she said, releasing me and wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm just so proud of you…" And a fresh wave of tears spilled over her cheeks. 

"Aw, Mum…" I said, ears turning red. 

"Sorry," she repeated. "Come on now, we can't stay here. Look, when we get back into the school, I want you three to find a safe place to hide and stay there. _Stay there_, understand?" 

We nodded, and Mum set off running towards the school again, the three of us following closely. When the door opened, sparks flew everywhere, and Mum joined the queue, hurling curses at Death Eaters nearby. 

"GO!" she shouted at the three of us. We dodged curses, and ran to the nearest and safest room that we could find, which turned out to be a broom closet next to Mum's office. 

We piled in, barely able to fit, but somehow, we managed to close the door. Charlotte was practically lying across James and I, but she was light; it didn't really matter. 

"Where _is_ everyone?" Charlotte asked in a whisper. 

"Yeah…" said James. "I haven't seen anyone except Death Eaters and Aurors since we've been in here. School, I mean, not the closet." 

I had forgotten about what I had seen; I had been too busy focusing on staying alive through the entire Great Hall debacle. Where had they been taken? How could we get to them without getting ourselves killed in the process? All of my 'mystery research' had done absolutely nothing to prepare me for what was going on right now. I had barely even been on target with my theories, and here I was, stuck in the middle of something that I hadn't even begun to imagine. 

After I'd told James and Charlotte what I saw, I got mixed reactions from them. Charlotte had her hand over her mouth, and looked as if she were fighting back tears. James was piss angry. 

"What? How the hell can they do that? Someone has got to stop them!" he was saying (which would have been shouting had we not cared about being found). 

"I know," I said, "but we don't know where they are!" 

"Maybe Professor Dumbledore knows?" suggested Charlotte. "I mean, he's got to know all of the secret places in the school that are large enough to hold a lot of kids in, hasn't he? It's worth a try, and we've got the invisibility cloak."

"Actually," I said, "We haven't got the invisibility cloak. Professor Delacour took it from me; that's how we were found out." 

"Maybe they won't see us with all of the confusion outside?" James wondered. "But then we might get hit with a curse or hex or something. That wouldn't be very good because then we will have accomplished nothing at all."

Except getting or arses kicked…I thought it best not to say that one out loud. 

"Well," Charlotte said after awhile, "Are we going to be brave or be a bunch of wimps in a closet?" 

"I'd be fine with being a wimp in a closet," said James, "But I don't think that I have a choice, knowing you two."

Charlotte and I exchanged a smile and shook our heads at James.

"Well, then lets get going," he said, "Because I haven't got much nerve left to lose, and sitting here until our legs are numb won't do to much to help. Just for the record, though, this was all your idea, Landon." 

"Thanks. I take full responsibility _and_ bragging rights."

"Well, I don't know about that…"


	14. Chapter Twelve

**Author's Note:**** An epilogue will follow, but otherwise, this is the last chapter! I hope that you all enjoyed it, and I'm sure that you noticed that the preface of "Eye of the Beholder" was posted. I really couldn't stop myself. Inspiration was there, so I wrote it, then realized that had actually posted it, and didn't want to delete and repost it! I couldn't stop myself!!! **

**Thanks so much for all of your wonderful reviews of this story. I really appreciated them a lot, as I was rather wary of first posting it. I hope that you enjoy this last chapter, and Emily's story. Au ****revoir****!**

Going with our original train of thought that Professor Dumbledore might know what to do, we made our way to the hospital wing. Most of the fighting had ended up in the Great Hall, so we didn't need to edge our way around the outskirts of duels. Surprisingly, no Death Eaters had made their way into the hospital wing. Why that was, I am still clueless about to this day. We pushed open the doors. The taupe, cream and white of the room was accomplishing the soothing effect that it was, no doubt, intended to. We found a rather jumpy Madame Pomfrey shaking under the desk in her office. She told us that Professor Dumbledore refused leaving the school, even when Uncle Sirius came in to speak with him when the Ministry stormed the castle. She showed us to his bed, and he let us sit down and talk to him.

"Hello, Professor!" the three of us said, happily. Despite the turmoil around us, the Headmaster was always sanity, a constant. He was sitting up in his bed, reading _The Daily Prophet_. He set his paper down when we came in, and the twinkle in his eye returned as he quirked his eyebrow and grinned. I knew what he was thinking, and I didn't want to hear it, considering I'd heard it a billion times already this year from everyone. But no, he was going to say it anyway.

"Why, it seems like only yesterday that your parents were in here. My, it's uncanny…" He seemed stronger than before- his pale skin almost had its typical hue back, but not quite. His voice was more stable, and the purple circles under his eyes had nearly faded. I took all of this as a good sign, and my hope that the Headmaster may survive to reclaim his job was somewhat restored. 

"What is, sir?" James asked.

He chuckled softly. Good sign. 

"How much you're like them, of course. Always getting into trouble, letting your own cleverness get the better of you. I had always looked forward to you two boys coming here. Let me tell you a secret," he said, leaning closer, "Your parents were always my favourite." 

"Of course they were!" said James. "And we take after them, don't we?" 

He chuckled again, "Yes, James, you do." 

Charlotte must have felt very awkward, as she often did during these exchanges with old family friends. They talked about 'Potter, Weasley, and Granger', never 'Potter, Weasley, Granger and Bronte'. I almost felt sorry for her as she sat there just staring at the ground, not wanting to jump into this conversation. 

After all, Professor Dumbledore had known the two of us since we were born; he'd watched us grow up, and he'd always served as somewhat of a grandfather to us and a father figure to our parents. Not only had he taught our them, but also he had remained their role model as they continued to stay in contact with him well after they'd graduated, seeking guidance, encouragement and knowledge from their beloved Professor. Then he was their colleague, and now, their friend. He was almost like family to us Potters and Weasleys- spending holidays and special occasions with us. Although he saw our parents as peers, I knew that they had never even dared to consider themselves equal with a man this great. That, in and of itself, was an intimidating thought, but the Headmaster was anything but intimidating- unless he was mad, of course, which was so uncommon that all hell broke lose on those rare occasions. 

"Professor?" I asked him. He looked at me with those insightful blue eyes that were comforting, and yet…scary.

"Yes, Landon?" 

"Well, we were just wondering…erm…" 

We were wondering if you'd let us save the school, nay the world, from destruction, even though we're only eleven, and couldn't hex our way out of paper bags. What do you say? 

"Well…erm…" stammered James. I knew what he was thinking, for I was thinking the same thing. One of the things about Professor Dumbledore's greatness is that everyone, myself included, puts him on a pedestal. I didn't want to sound stupid in front of him anymore than I wanted to face a herd of gigantic spiders, and I knew that James felt the same way- best friend mental telepathy syndrome. 

He looked at us quite bemusedly. James and I tongue-tied was not a common occurrence when you were around us often as he was.

"How are you, Professor?" Charlotte asked, jumping into the conversation.

"I'm fine, Miss Bronte, thank you." 

Well that was the most random thing I'd ever heard. We were supposed to be asking about where our fellow student might be being held, but no, we're asking about the Headmaster's health. 

I had to do something. 

"Erm…Professor, this may seem a little odd, but-"

"Do you know if there's a place in the school big enough for all of the students to fit in that _isn't_ the Great Hall?" James asked. I hadn't planned on going about it like that, but he did get the main point across. 

He looked at us quizzically. "What do you three think that you can do?" he asked us.  

"We're not quite sure," Charlotte said, emerging from her silent state that a horrified look from me had banished her to after her little 'how are you?' question. 

"But we can't do nothing," I said. "Feeling helpless is the worst. I'm sure that we could do something to help…maybe." 

"More or less," James said, frustrated, "We don't know what to do, and we want you to help us by telling us what we _can_ do." 

*

March is a surprisingly cold month. You'd think, wouldn't you, that since Spring is just around the corner that March would be a little bit warmer. But, of course, with our luck, March is bloody freezing. 

By the time we'd made it out to the Quidditch pitch, it was nearly pitch black. Nighttime had fallen while we were in the hospital wing with Professor Dumbledore, and it was not easy to navigate your way in the dark- especially when you're scared out of your mind. We hoped that the Quidditch pitch would prove to be a fruitful venture and that we didn't just waste an hour formulating this plan which all depended on the stadium. 

The plan was rudimentary, as they tended to be when the executers were eleven years old. James and Charlotte would be at opposite sides of the stadium serving as decoys, while I would sneak into the team room. James and Charlotte would set off sparks with their wands, attracting the attention of the boulder-sized Death Eaters that were guarding our friends. That would give me a chance, then, to sneak a handful of students into the team room. Eventually, our goal was to crate a diversion long enough for students to get back to the castle, using a route and location that Professor Dumbledore had suggested: she would take the passage where the Whomping Willow used to stand into the Shrieking Shack. She would then bring with her some of the residents of Hogsmeade, leading them into the cellar of Honeydukes and into the hallway in the dungeons that was filled with doors leading to nowhere that Charlotte and I had been trapped in on the day that we became friends.

I didn't think that the three of us could do anything to stop Death Eaters, and my guess was that after our little confession to the Headmaster about not wanting to feel helpless, he was adding this little bit in for us to feel of some use. The Aurors would most likely be showing up any minute now, and I was completely fine with that. Just as long as we didn't have to sit in a broom closet. 

The pitch took on an eerie glow in the moonlight as I snuck into the team room. I waited for the sign that would signal my chance to rescue some of my friends. Red sparks from James could be seen on the east side of the stand, in the Gryffindor seating section. 

"Oy. What's this?" one particularly large Death Eater asked with a horrifying cockney accent.

"Dunno, mate," said another, accent worse than the first. 

"Well, let's have a look, then," said the first, he and his 'mate' walking toward the Gryffindor stands. I knew that James would have left already and be on his way to the Hufflepuff section, but they didn't. I glanced around, trying to see if there were Death Eaters any closer. They were on the other side of the pitch, also looking in the direction of the sparks, utterly clueless. 

I snuck out of the team room, and tapped a first year Hufflepuff boy on the shoulder, signalling, that six other first years should follow me: three boys and three girls. They eagerly followed, and heeded my instructions of, 'stay low, don't move, don't speak'. 

Charlotte's green sparks were seen from the Ravenclaw section. Six more students crouched in the team room with us. 

James's white sparks from the Hufflepuff section. 

Six more students.

Charlotte's purple sparks from the Slytherin section.

Six more.

Things were going well, now. We had twenty-four first years, all of them present and accounted for. The second part of the plan was ready to be executed. Enter Charlotte Bronte. She came in the same way that I had; ready to lead six students at a time to the strange hallway. The first batch of students that I had led was to follow her as I was signalled by James's yellow sparks to grab six second years. We repeated the same thing, although, this time, the going was slower. James was now the only one setting off sparks, which meant a longer time in between runs for students. The room was more full than it ever had been, as Charlotte took much longer coming to and from the school. James sent off sparks again, and I snuck outside, grabbing six third years. As I quietly led them back to the room, I was stopped. A Death Eater had spotted me, and jumped from the stands above to land right in front of me, blocking the entrance to the team room. 

"Just where do you think that you're going, Weasley?" I recognized the cold drawl, and kept up the charade. 

"Nothing. What makes you think that I'm going anywhere?" I asked Malfoy, pretending to be frightened. Come on. 

"You look awfully suspicious…" he said, circling our group. Please, this man couldn't act if his life depended on it. 

"What's going on?" asked one particularly intelligent Death Eater who could figure out that something was amiss. 

"Routine check," Malfoy said. "Delacour wants this brood up at the castle for more tests- just making sure that they're clear." 

"Oh! Are they?" the man asked keenly. Honestly, you'd think that they'd get men who actually had brains.

"Yes, they appear to be fine. You can go about your business." As the other Death Eater walked away, Malfoy strode into the team room, taking not only the seven of us, but also another thirteen- after all; twenty was a good even number. We collected the group that had built up in the small locker room and they all strode to the castle, Draco Malfoy masquerading as a Death Eater and leading the bunch. Once inside the castle, Malfoy's mask served as proper identification, causing Death Eaters to salute him and not question his business. I suppose that they might have wondered why we weren't tied up, but considering that their brains were the size of Jack's, they didn't think twice about it. In fact, they probably completely forgot about us once we were out of their sight. Typical child psychology with grown men. Pitiful. 

He led us to the same corridor that the rest of the students were in, telling Charlotte that she need not lead any more students inside. 

"You two can stay here," he told us. "And…well done, Weasley." Ah, the smell of resentment in the early morning…

The two of us sat down and attempted to relax when we knew exactly what would be going on outside any minute. Once the last student was removed from the pitch 'under the orders of Delacour', Draco would give off a signal to the Aurors. Since all of the remaining Death Eaters had gone to the pitch to watch over their charges, the Ministry would have them cornered. They'd rush in and seal off the place, as well as sealing the fate of all of the men and women inside. 

Minutes later, Draco returned, leading the last bunch of students with him. He tossed me something shiny.

"Here, Weasley," he snarled, "This is yours." It was the cloak! This thing had an uncanny knack for reappearing whenever it was needed, or not needed, at that. I didn't quite understand it, but I suppose that that was part of the glory that was the cloak. You're not supposed to understand it. 

"Where'd you find this?" I asked in amazement. 

He smiled at me. "You should be more careful with your things. Stay here; don't leave until your parents come and get you." 

He left in the same way that he had come in, and we had nothing to do but wait. Charlotte and I attempted to play Exploding Snap without cards, but that didn't work too well. Then, we quizzed each other for the Potions test that we were supposed to have the period after lunch yesterday, but the attack had stopped it. Knowing Snape, the test would still be on for tomorrow. 

"What's the main ingredient for a sleeping draught?" I asked her, half asleep myself.

"James…" she said.

"Sorry, it's-"

"No, I mean, James! Where is he?" 

"He's still out at the pitch. Now leave me alone; I want to sleep." 

"Landon!" 

"Charlotte…"

"He'll be obliterated! If he's still out at the pitch during the battle, than he could be in huge danger! We've got to go get him!" 

I was entirely alert now. James in danger? I'd rather trade the Cannons' winning season (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…) than have James get hurt. What else was a best friend to do? I threw the newly acquired invisibility cloak over our heads, and we ran out of the corridor- now that we knew where the exit was- and out of the school. No, it would be too late. The staff and Aurors were no longer stationed in the Great Hall. Delacour wasn't there, either. 

From our position of running insanely fast across the lawn to the stadium, we could clearly see that it was ablaze with light from curses, and the sounds of shouting voices reached us. The enormity of this battle struck me, then. This would be a major step in finally ridding the Magical world of Neo-Death Eaters, and my best friend was caught in the middle of it. 

The locker room was now deserted as we walked through to the stadium, deciding that we would keep to the edges of the fighting and under the cloak until we could find James and help him get out here. That didn't exactly happen, though. Once we were outside, I couldn't help myself from stopping to stare at what was going on around me. I could see Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry in the centre of commotion, fighting side by side. I supposed it was some symbolic and poignant thing for them- fighting together. They'd started together, so they'd have to finish together. 

"Charlotte! Go!" I had to yell in her ear to be heard.

"What? What about you?" 

"I'll be OK; I want to watch! You go!" 

She ran away and into the stands, leaving me perfectly visible. I stuck to the edge, ducking behind a barrier that separated the green from the seats. I could see both Death Eaters and Aurors falling, but it seemed as if the Aurors were constantly coming off better in the grand scheme of things. 

Dad was visibly duelling, and I had to say that he was very good at it. The man that he was duelling was down in seconds, before another charged at him from a different direction. Dad turned with ease, sending the unforgivable curses (which they were licensed to do in this case) at his assailant. There was somewhat of a problem, though. Dad was now facing where my red hair was protruding from behind the blockade, and it was evident from the look of shock and horror on his face that he saw me. He barely had time for the thought to register, however, because yet another oversized Death Eater instantly assailed him.  

I was still crouching behind the cement block, completely enthralled with what was going on in front of my eyes to notice that someone was watching me, as well. Behind me was a very sullen Death Eater by the name of Blaise Zabini. I don't know how he knew me, or how I knew him. In fact, I'm still convinced to this day that I'd never seen him before in my life. Dad knew him, though, because they were in the same Hogwarts year. Anyway, Zabini was crouched behind the barricade as well. Not sure why, really, except perhaps he was even more of a coward than he was ugly. 

Dad apparently saw him as some kind of threat, although I didn't. I mean, the man was scared of duelling, like he would kill me? But then, he was a Death Eater- I wouldn't put it past him. Dad looked at me, again, and this time, he came running towards me. Since Mum and Uncle Harry were a little tied up at the moment, they didn't join him. Under any other circumstances, however, they would have been at his side in a moment's notice. 

He was approaching that blockade and I snuck a glance at Zabini. He was as pale as Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor Ghost, and was mouthing like a goldfish. Dad grabbed me by the arm, and without thinking, quickly Avada Kedarvra-ed the guy. Don't know why he did that, because I was under no threat at all. The guy was more scared than I was. Still, it's not every day that you see your father kill someone. It was a very harsh reality to face. My father, who had cared for me for all of my life, could end someone's without blinking an eye. I quickly had to push those thoughts of remorse from my mind. It was his job; that's what he was trained to do. He couldn't help doing his job, especially when it involved protecting me. We continued running somewhere. I had no clue at the time, and even now, my memory's a bit foggy on this whole lapse of time. It seemed to go as quickly as the speed of light. 

I must tell you that much of this night had been a blur, and everything from here on may not be entirely accurate. Mum could probably tell it better. 

I do, however, remember James and Charlotte meeting up with my dad and I. I'm sure that they told us how it was that they managed to get to our area, but my brain was running on overload at the time. The four of us were packed up in the top box, from whence Eric Jordan announced the Quidditch games. It was kind of small but offered a view of everything that was going on below. Dad sat back in a chair, putting his feet up and peering over steepled fingers at us. He looked, by no means, happy to see us. In fact, I knew this look. When Dad got upset, he either let out a burst of spastic energy and yelled until his jugular looked ready to explode, or, he would stay calm and wait for you to explain, speaking in a soft, yet deadly, whisper, which was worse than his temper. 

"Explain," he said, calmly in that horrible whisper. "Why are you here? What was going on in your heads when you decided to put yourselves in danger and scare the hell out of me? Why was it that you didn't just stay where you where supposed to? Why on earth did you think that it was all right to come down here and interrupt a mission that, depending on the outcome, could insure your safety or danger for the majority of your teenage years? Please, tell me, because I'm sure that I'll find your answer quite interesting. Can't imagine that even _you_ Landon could come up with one to account for your insanely stupid and irresponsible actions, but give is a try. It could be interesting." 

We sat there with our heads bowed. I hated it when Dad got like this. See what I mean? Worse than the temper. 

"Well?" he prodded, also questioning with his eyebrows. 

Time to face the music, I suppose.

"Dad, I-"

"LOOK!" James had got up, and was pressing his face against the glass. We all turned around, surprised at his sudden outburst. But what we saw was well worth it. 

Death Eaters had fallen, and the Ministry had triumphed. Mum and Uncle Harry were visible in an embrace, and then, they grudgingly shook hands with Draco Malfoy, who was equally, if not more so, resentful. 

Charlotte was jumping up and down happily (her father, Elliott, was also an Auror); James and I were letting out whooping yells. Dad had stood up and pointed a finger at us.

"We'll talk about this later. Come on, let's go celebrate," he said, and the three of us ran out of the top box, Dad close at our heels. Charlotte found her father easily- he was taller than my Dad. It was actually a heart-warming sight when she jumped into her dad's arms and he spun her around a bit, apparently having heard what the three of us had done earlier, and no doubt, proud. 

I ran into Mum's arms. Of course, it's kind of melodramatic in that sappy, feel good movie kind of way, but it's not every day that seventy five percent of your immediate family brushes elbows with death. 

Everyone was dancing around, whopping happily, and making as big a fuss as a championship Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch game. It was actually quite fun, especially when they started setting off fireworks with their wands. It was like New Years Eve. That is until the crowd parted, and a tall, slender woman walked through, straight towards us. 

Mum immediately tensed- her jaw set, fists clenched, and shoulders square. Uncle Harry and Dad drew their wands, ready at her side, but Mum waved them off. 

"She's mine," she growled. 

Now, you have to understand, I'd just seen my father kill someone not too long ago. Dad was one thing, but this was my _mother_. She'd been the one who'd stayed by my bed when I was sick; she'd _given_ _birth_ to me for cripes' sake. My mother, in my eyes, was a goddess who could do no wrong. How could _she_ be capable of killing someone at this calibre? It was actually very traumatizing. No, really, all joking aside. She'd been on this pedestal in my mind, right up there next to Dumbledore. It was almost like…seeing this different side of her that was…malicious…it was like watching an angel fall from heaven. Of course, I still loved her- she was my mother, after all- but there was something different. I could never see her being tender with Jack while knowing that she could send someone to Azkaban for a life of torturous memories. It just didn't add up. 

But still, even with the math still incomplete in my head, this was still happening. 

"Second?" Delacour asked her. 

"Harry." 

That was their plan; I'd found out later. Not to duel against Delacour, but in duelling, Harry was always my parents second- in case anything happened to one, the other wouldn't have been able to carry on. Then, if things proceeded to get worse, we children could be facing the possibility of losing both of our parents. It was a smart move on their part. 

"Ron, get him out of here," Mum said, unbuttoning her jacket, and throwing it on the ground. Clearly, it would get in her way- it was most definitely not one that was designed for one on one combat. Lucky she was wearing pants, though.  

"Aw," pouted Delacour as Mum took off her shoes, lessening her height by about six centimetres (the removing of her heels was not only insanely gutsy but insanely serious- it was demonstrating that she was ready to fight hard, and in order to do so, six centimetre spikes weren't going to be in her advantage), "Don't want to 'urt baby's eyes?" 

"More than his eyes have been hurt, merely from being in your presence," she said. So maybe it was a little weak, but Delacour certainly was mad. 

Dad and I didn't move.

She practically lunged at Mum, who easily avoided her and drew her wand, adrenaline pumping equally hard as Delacour swung back around, attempting to hit Mum with an unforgivable curse, but Mum used an equally strong counter-curse, and following it closely with a simple spell that I could have done myself.

"_Expeliarmus_!" she yelled, sending Delacour's wand sailing metres away and far from her reach. 

_"Crucio!"_ Mum continued. Shivers ran up my spine. That's the last time that anyone screws Mum over, that's for sure. No sooner had she said the curse than she released it. She was just letting Delacour have a touch of what she could do, I assumed. 

Now, it was the Divination Professor's turn. 

Wand abandoned, she let a roundhouse punch fly, clipping Mum's jaw and sending her, and her wand, reeling. Mum was splayed on the ground, and Delacour was standing over her, my mother's own wand being held at her throat. I winced, breathing harder as sweat was beading up on my forehead. Dad's grip tightened on my shoulder, his breath matching my accelerated pace. Uncle Harry stood at the ready. Delacour opened her mouth to perform the killing curse, but soon found herself flat on her back, wand back in the hands of its proper owner.

Mum- 2

Dealcour-1

Instead of killing her, Mum stepped back, levelling the duelling field, allowing Delacour to stand. Never hit a man while he's down, I suppose. Delacour stood. And the battle commenced with a heat that had rivalled anything that I had ever seen- that wasn't much, mind you, but it was pretty intense. Dad's hand on my shoulder was insanely tight, threatening to unconsciously break my collarbone. Not only was it ready to snap neck, but also it was shaking so violently that I had to wrench myself from his grip to keep my brain cells in tact. 

I saw the two women sweating violently, which was kind of strange, considering it was March. Magic at a high calibre took a lot out of you. Add that with the physical exertion of duelling, and you were destined to have a sure-fire weight loss plan. 

"_Expeliarmus!" _they shouted in unison, sending both wands flying high into the stands. 

It seemed to last forever. They stood facing each other, barely a metre apart, panting, staring each other down, and daring the other to move first. There was a look in Delacour's eyes that I hadn't seen before: fear. Without warning, Delacour broke off from their eye-lock, sprinting in the opposite direction in retreat. It was a gutsy move, sure to fail, but it seemed as if she'd rather face Dementors and Azkaban than Mum's wrath that she'd incurred. Aurors easily caught the thin woman, and could have broken her in half like the twig that she was, had they especially wanted to. They looked at Mum, waiting her orders. 

"Azkaban," she said, barely above a whisper.

"NO!!" Delacour screamed. She continued pleading even as Mum ignored her, slipping her heels back on, and picking up her jacket. She walked testily over to Dad and I, gingerly lifting her fingers to feel where Delacour's fist had connected with her lip. The wiped the blood off with her thumb, refusing to look at Delacour. 

"Come on, son," she said, ruffling my flaming hair. "Let's go home." 


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue

It was over. Things ended well, for the most part. Delacour was sentenced to the Dementor's kiss, on top of a lifetime sentence in Azkaban.

The Headmaster got well, which I had expected after our visit to the Hospital Wing. The only thing that would ever make me lose hope would be when he lost that twinkle in his eye. He took over as acting Headmaster after he was released, and the school was restored to its typical state of utopian simplicity.

Mum retired from Hogwarts two years later- my third year. She worked in the Ministry, devoting all of her time to MADD and the Department of Mysteries, quickly climbing to the Head of both departments. She wouldn't come back to Hogwarts- at least not as a teacher, anyway.

Dad just plain retired two years later. He and Uncle Charlie had completed what they had set out to do in the first place with their study, and they didn't feel the need to continue. Dad took that to a further level and decided not to work again at all. He retired, sitting on a small fortune, of course. 

Emily was typical Emily, although things took an unexpected turn when she turned into quite the artist, working on everything from sculpting, photography and paintings. Quidditch was always her first love, though, and she became the first seeker in twenty-eight years to play for Gryffindor house in her first year. She was proclaimed to be better than both uncles Charlie Weasley and Harry Potter. _Quidditch Illustrated_ predicted that she'd be snapped up professionally by the time that she was fifteen- sixteen, at the latest. 

Jack grew up into a kind of stubborn kid, however, he was always rather distant. He was smart. Bloody smart without even trying. That really did infuriate me. There was still something desperately familiar about him that I couldn't quite place, but I wouldn't figure it out until years and years later. But that's another story entirely. 

Mum says that you can learn from everything. What did I learn from this? I learned the importance of being honest. I learned that people are not always what they appear to be. I learned the importance of humour. Was there a recurring theme throughout my first year? Not really. I would never forget it, that's for sure. How can one forget a year as eventful as that? The rest of our Hogwarts years were not quite so eventful, however, we weren't without our adventures, of course.

Charlotte, James and I remained friends throughout all of our Hogwarts years. James and Charlotte started dating during their sixth year. That relationship continued on after graduation, as did my relationship with Fiona Finnigan. 

But, once again, that's a completely different story. 


End file.
